


On Yggdrasil’s Branches

by Acantha_Echo



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Realities, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bikers, Canon Setting, Castles, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Gangs, M/M, Magic, Medieval, Mermaids, Other, Ride or Die Dark Sides, Roman is so soft for his love, Sea witches, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Remus Sanders, dukes and princes, he loves Virgil so much, he might mention it once or twice, in their own weird way, looking out for Virgil, many times, they are doing their best, worked themselves to exhaustion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2020-10-20 04:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acantha_Echo/pseuds/Acantha_Echo
Summary: The inhabitants of the mindscape are all under the strain of Remus finally revealing himself to Thomas. None more so, it appears, than Virgil. Worried about his Dark Strange Son, Patton takes it upon himself to visit unannounced. Only to discover Virgil’s unconscious form in Deceit’s arms as the snake faced side flees into his area of the mind.Nothing Deceit does is ever as it seems however and once drawn through his doorway, Patton, Roman and Logan all find themselves in strange new stories, cut off from Thomas and each other.A new reality, a unique world for each with no idea of how they got there or how to get home.One of the few constants is Virgil. Except it’s a different Virgil every time. A different Virgil with a different story and a distinct different personality. He never seems to recognise them but it doesn’t take long for each to realise that the way home is intimately linked to their missing anxious friend.The only problem is the other constant in each world - Remus.





	1. A Door of Gold, Amethyst and Obsidian

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Hello! Yes, I know, another work from me when I have so many on the go. This is another weekly serial book however. I have about 3/4ths of the story written already and I’m aiming for about 14 chapters total. Check this out every Monday! 
> 
> Today is my birthday and this is my gift to the fandom. It’s also finally, another entry on my **Bad Things Happen** bingo card. An utterly insane story that is really four threads in one. This chapter marks my first attempt at writing from Patton’s PoV. It’s also my first attempt at writing established Roman and Virgil, so we shall see how that goes. 
> 
> The birth of this story came from the oddest source possible. The song (and music video) _I’m With You_ by **Avril Lavigne** which during a particularly bad sensory overload I ended up watching for about an hour on my phone. It heavily inspired one part of this story but even as that idea was growing in my mind I knew it was only part of a whole.
> 
> And what a whole it turned out to be.
> 
> Story title was suggested to me by @mermaid-of-the-valley and I’m really grateful to them for the wonderful idea! **Listenerofshadows** (check out her work!) has, as always helped me with planning this story, general encouragement and checking over the odd little bit for me. She also suggested the starting point for Roman’s world and I am indebted to her for that because it was a much better seed than the half idea I had.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy and that you stay with me for this story because it is going to get wild.

** **

### A Door of Gold, Amethyst and Obsidian

** **

It was no secret that Virgil was working himself hard after the events of the video. Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts had brought more secrets to the fore, it had shown Thomas that there was so much more to him that he still had to discover. They had finally been able to introduce the Duke to Thomas and while Patton hadn’t exactly been... thrilled at having to do that, at least it hadn’t gone terribly.

It had gone bad, but it could have been a whole lot worse and anyway, he now knew for sure that Thomas had no desire to be influenced by Remus. His Thomas was happy with Roman as his main Creativity, he wanted to be good and that was going to have to be enough for Patton. As much as he wanted to be able to close his eyes and ears against the less savory elements of the mind, it was time for him to face the facts and accept that even his beloved Thomas wasn’t perfect all the time.

Just ninety nine percent of the time. 

And they could work on the other one percent. 

No, the latest video subject itself hadn’t been the problem, the thing driving Virgil to such lengths. Patton had seen Virgil stressed out on a number of occasions before now, he had helped him through some of the tougher points in Thomas’ life when Virgil let him. He had helped pick up the pieces on the times when he hadn’t. It wasn’t Remus or the thoughts which were getting to Anxiety and making him push himself as hard as he was. 

Virgil had told Thomas who he had once been.

Patton had never blamed his dark strange son for the choices he had made growing up. He had been surrounded by the Dark Sides, of course he would have been influenced by them, of course he would have made choices that Patton wished he didn’t. Virgil had just been trying to survive and although he had sometimes scared Morality way, way, back in the beginning, he had decided early on not to let those fears get to him and to do what he had to in order to guide Anxiety to a better state of mind. He saw how wonderful the anxious side could be, if only he opened himself up a little. More than that, he could tell that Anxiety had been desperate to do just that but didn't know how to go about it.

Unlike Deceit.

Deceit scared him. Perhaps more than anyone else, because Deceit didn’t seem to care about right or wrong. He didn’t see them as clear, unmovable objects. You could do wrong things, for the right reasons but you would still be in the wrong for doing them. 

Back when Virgil had been a Dark Side, he had done wrong things. He had felt bad about doing them however and had tried to change his ways. That was what mattered to Patton. That Virgil had wanted to be better and although his efforts at first had been quite terrible, he had kept trying and had improved until he was able to learn a balance between keeping Thomas safe and scaring them all for no good reason. 

Patton wasn’t as naive as he acted. He knew they had all done wrong things in their lives. Sometimes by accident, sometimes for that vague ‘greater good’ that seemed like the perfect excuse for anything really. They had all stumbled and made mistakes. Sometimes it took a long time for them to admit that they had made that mistake but Patton liked to think that they had gotten there in the end. Patton included himself in that list - he had been nothing but honest when he described himself as acting like a real B hole during the night of Thomas’ intrusive thoughts. 

He had been so convinced that what he was doing was right, he hadn’t stopped to think about the damage he was causing in the process. 

Even Patton stumbled. Then he got back up, dusted himself down, said sorry and tried to do better. Even if he didn’t necessarily approve, he tried to understand because he knew that he couldn’t just make those thoughts go away. Repression didn’t work, Logan had shown them that so very clearly. If they couldn’t go away, then he would have to find a way to be at peace with them because Logan was right. They didn’t have to mean anything. Sometimes thoughts were just thoughts, and sometimes he just liked to act a bit silly.

Deceit though. Deceit didn’t seem to care that he was doing wrong. All he cared about was getting his own point across, getting his own way. No matter what other side he manipulated or hurt, he would do whatever it took to make sure he was the winner, that Thomas listened to him. If Deceit had his way, Thomas would listen to him and nobody else.

Then again, they all wanted to be heard and they had learnt that it was bad for any one of them to be too much in control. Why couldn’t Deceit see that? Why couldn’t he realise that while he might want what he thought was best for Thomas, he had to accept that his way could be wrong too. 

All he cared about... was Thomas. 

Which was right, which was good and proper. They were parts of Thomas, they were designed specifically to help him. It would have worried Patton if Deceit hadn’t cared about their manifester. He needed to care about the other sides as well and Patton didn’t know how to make him do that. Patton’s heart was bursting with the feelings he had for the other three ‘main’ sides. He loved them all so much and it hurt whenever one of them was hurting. At least two of them were right now and Patton sometimes wanted to cry at the thought of it. 

Virgil wasn’t doing so good.

Thomas hadn’t called him up since their last conversation. The poor kiddo was still trying to catch up on his sleep and then he had been trying to handle all the revelations thrown at him. It was one thing to learn that your Creativity was split in two, and meet another part of yourself as a result of that. It was completely another to have a side you cared for and trusted tell you that they had been part of a group that everyone else said was a thing to be feared. The Dark Sides. 

He had probably suspected as much, but there was a huge difference between thinking something and then the other person actually coming out and admitting it to him. Hearing it out loud must have been such a shock to the system. And then Virgil had stepped back to give him a chance to deal with it, only for Thomas to seem to want to ignore the revelation completely. 

Patton knew he wasn’t angry at Virgil. Confused yes. Possibly even hurt, that Virgil had hid something so big from him for so long, but he wasn’t angry. Patton would have known if he was angry at him. 

That didn’t seem to help matters though. Virgil still blamed himself. For letting things get as bad as they had, for not protecting him against the Dark Sides - the others, as Virgil would call them. For not being good enough for him. For being like the others in the first place. 

So Virgil closed himself off, waiting for a summons he probably didn’t want but expected all the same. He still made sure his influence was felt, Patton knew he hadn’t ducked out. He was working harder than normal because he wasn’t manifesting himself in the real world, pushing himself to his limits in order to still be felt but at a distance. It had to be exhausting for his poor kiddo, especially when he barely showed himself to the rest of them. All Patton wanted to do was scoop him up into a big hug and tell him that everything was going to be alright. 

Virgil had made it clear that he didn’t always like it when Patton spoke like that however. And the last thing Patton wanted to do was add to Virgil’s discomfort, to make this worse but it was so hard when his family was crumbling a little at the edges and his only plan involved giving love and support that Virgil didn’t seem to _want_. It wasn’t fair. 

Logan agreed with Patton that it was best to give him time, to let himself cool down a little. There was no point forcing a confrontation yet, Virgil hadn’t shown any signs of ducking out or doing anything untoward like that so it was best to show Virgil that they trusted him. That they believed he knew what he was doing. Patton hoped that was the case. 

Then there was Roman.

Patton knew Roman was upset about Remus making his way into the main area of the mind. The videos had always been Roman’s, something his brother hadn’t touched and it hurt now to consider them tainted, as he knew Roman did. Patton understood Roman better than the regal side probably thought he did. He knew how his mind worked sometimes, he knew what drove him, what inspired him and in turn, what hurt him. He knew that despite his claims of never seeing Remus again, that Creativity knew better than that. Remus was coming back and what had once been his safe haven could not be invaded at any time. That had to sting more than a little. 

That wasn’t why Roman was as upset as he was though. It wasn’t even close to why. The thing that hurt his dramatic son was the way in which Virgil was shutting everyone out of his life, the way in which he had closed himself off to the side he had claimed as his boyfriend. Not even Roman had been able to get Virgil to come out of his room and join in on the family nights or family meals. Patton knew that Roman was trying his best, that he was doing everything he could to get Virgil to open up to them all.

He knew as well that Roman was struggling not to take Virgil’s closed off behaviour personally. Virgil had had these periods before, but the last time it had been even close to being as bad as this, he had still been Anxiety instead of Virgil. He certainly hadn’t been Virgil, Roman’s boyfriend. 

Creativity and Anxiety. Patton had always had a soft spot for the idea of the two of them together, even though they would have laughed at the thought out of the room in the early days of their rivalry, then friendship. The heart wants what the heart wants. 

Roman was good for Virgil and Virgil was good for Roman. They balanced each other and kept each from getting too caught up in the worst of their traits. It made Patton want to squeal with joy whenever he saw one of them smile at the other. Roman smiled at Virgil as if he was the sun, moon and stars all at once. As if Virgil brought all the light into the room. 

Virgil’s smiles were rarer, softer, harder to catch. They spoke of early mornings and listening to the rain against the roof while you lazed in bed. They were brilliant partly because they were that uncommon but Patton had been seeing them more often lately. Almost all of them directed towards Roman and there were times when Patton felt almost as though he was intruding by catching a glimpse of them. He was just so happy to know that they were happy. 

They still fought of course. Patton wished they wouldn’t, but he accepted that it was part of who they were and if that was the case then he would let them. It was better they blew off steam in fights that were mostly friendly then let everything build up inside of them until there were consequences. Patton knew what it was like to let emotions build up inside of you until it exploded. It was messy, horrible and he didn’t want that for his kiddos. Not when they were doing so well.

At least. 

They _had_ been doing well. Right up until Virgil had felt he had to tell Thomas the truth. Patton was so proud of him for taking that step, for being brave and opening himself up. He just wished Virgil could see it that way. He wished that Virgil let them all in. Patton wished for a lot of things, every night staring up at the first star he saw in the sky and muttered his request under his breath. 

It wasn’t as bad as it could be, of course. At least Virgil hadn’t cut himself completely off from the rest of them. At least he still let Thomas feel nervous. At least he still kept a single route of communication open. Patton knew that Virgil still crept along the corridor at night, that he slipped into Roman’s room and into his bed to hold him, to reassure himself that his Prince was alright. Patton had watched from the shadows just to make sure. 

Virgil always looked so tired during those nocturnal walks from his room to Roman’s, and it had taken everything in Patton not to rush out from his hiding spot and give him a huge hug right there and then. Space. He had to give Virgil the space he clearly wanted. He needed to respect Virgil and his desires, not selfishly give into his own. Patton had to be strong and hope that sooner rather than later, the anxious side would come to him so that he could give him the love he was so desperate to share. 

He doubted either of them had gotten much sleep the first night, not after the blow to the head Roman had received. Virgil had probably spent hours hissing and checking over every inch of Roman, before Roman had finally been able to comfort him back. 

Virgil never came down with Roman for breakfast, he didn’t join them at all in fact. Patton tried not to let the empty place get to him as day followed day and still the anxious side avoided them all. 

By the third morning, Patton had started having to have a harsh talk with himself to stop himself from bouncing into Roman’s room and dragging Virgil to the kitchen table for breakfast. He knew Virgil well, he knew that if he did that, the anxious side wouldn’t want to risk offending him by saying no to his face. Patton would get his family meal, he would have a brief moment of satisfaction and warmth before the empty plates were collected and cleaned.

And then Virgil would probably stop coming to Roman’s room out of fear that it would happen again.

He couldn’t do that to the pair of them. No matter how much he wanted to see his son again, Patton couldn’t force the matter. Virgil would come out when he was ready and anyway, Patton was sure that Roman was trying to convince him each night that it would be alright to face the rest of them again. Patton hoped that Roman was saying how much they missed him without making Virgil too embarrassed.

By the eighth day of this however, Patton was starting to wonder if his plan was working. Giving Virgil the space he had silently demanded had always worked before but then Virgil had never confessed such a huge thing to Thomas before. Thomas and his anxiety had never gone this long without interacting with each other on a face to face basis, not since he had properly accepted his anxiety

It reminded Patton uncomfortably of the times before. Back when Virgil had just been Anxiety and he hadn’t been part of the family. Back when he had been a snarling, angry, thing, lashing out at them before they could hurt him. Those times had been terrible for them all. Looking back, they had to have been worse for Virgil because there had been nobody he could talk to, nobody he could confide in and open up to. His only defense when things had gone wrong had been to be more mean, more prickly. To close himself off and curl into a tight little ball so that nobody could get to his vulnerable sides. 

Of course at a moment of extreme distress, the worst he had felt in a long time, he would revert back to those behaviours. It was what had saved him in the past. 

As easy as it was for Patton to think that things were different now, to be worried for his son and to want him to just open up and talk to them, he knew it wasn’t actually that easy. That Virgil was battling decades of behaviour against just a few years of acceptance and only a few months of love. No matter what Roman promised in the night, whispering against his skin, it had to pale in comparison to all those lonely years.

Patton couldn’t let Virgil be alone any longer. The day had stretched on with Thomas getting through his work with the usual level of anxiety, with all of them chipping in to help when they could but it just wasn’t the same without virgil there to offer his dry comments, to tease and argue with them. There was something lacking in every interaction and he was sure that the others felt it too. 

No, enough was enough. 

It was time to let his dark strange son know for sure that they all still loved and adored him. Giving him space no longer seemed an option, not with eight days of silence down and what felt like an eternity still to come. Virgil hadn’t given any hint that he was planning to come out of his room anytime soon. At this rate, the anxious side wasn’t going to be the one to break the impasse. Patton was going to have to talk to Virgil. There was no other way around it. He had tiptoed around the subject long enough, had given Virgil the time and space he needed but this didn’t seem like it was a space situation any longer.

If things were really as bad as Patton was starting to suspect, then this was a ‘find Virgil and physically fight him with love so he has no choice but to realise how adored by them all he still was’ situation. First though, he had to find Roman and try and get a little information from him. 

Luckily, it was always fairly easy to find Roman and this evening was no exception. Roman was lounging in the main room, a notebook in his hands as he idly doodled. Patton could be wrong, but he was sure he saw a number of hearts and letters drawn on the lined paper. Roman really was too cute. 

“Hello Roman,” Patton began, trying not to sound too nervous too quickly. He didn’t want to scare him off after all but he was going to have to somehow convince Roman to go against what Virgil claimed to want. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. 

“Padre!” The bright smile and hearty greeting didn’t fool Patton. He was the master of them after all, he knew how to smile like you mean it. 

“How is Virgil doing? I’ve not seen him recently so I thought since you and he spend the nights together you’ll have a better idea of how he’s coping with everything.” Best to just put his cards out on the table, to let Roman know he knew about the night time visits and more importantly that he wasn’t upset by this. Patton didn’t mind the fact that Virgil was talking to Roman over him, just so long as he was talking. 

Well, Virgil was meant to be his best friend and he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit hurt by the idea that Virgil felt that he couldn’t confide in him, but Patton did understand. He was learning to embrace his own feelings, even the bad ones. He just had to accept his feelings and then move on to what was important. Helping Virgil. 

“Oh... you know? Of course you know.” The words were muttered mostly to himself, Roman deflating slightly as he thought about his boyfriend. 

“I know,” Patton agreed softly, voice inviting, almost begging Roman to keep talking. 

“He’s working hard. So hard. I tried to arrange a picnic for the two of us yesterday in the Imagination and he wouldn’t come...” Roman trailed off, his words soft and bewildered. 

“He always comes but I couldn’t convince him yesterday. Virgil just said he had to keep working, that he needed to protect Thomas that he didn’t have time to do anything else. It doesn’t help that Thomas has all these things going on at once. Virgil actually needs to do his job, I know that. I’m busy too! I just wish they would talk to each other. I just wish he would talk to me.”

Patton felt his heart cracking a little as he listened to Roman, his confusion as obvious as his pain. It was clear that Roman’s heart was breaking as well and he didn’t know what to do in order to fix it. Patton wasn’t completely sure either, but he knew that they had to do something. 

“And then at night... I always fall asleep first. And when I wake up, he’s already awake. He says he gets some sleep and I’ve never known Virgil to sleep a full eight hours but I can’t help but worry. I know he watches over me, he always has, I love my protective boyfriend but this feels different Pat...” 

Part of Patton couldn’t help but feel warmed by the easy way in which Roman had said ‘love’ as if loving Virgil was the easiest thing in the world to him. Perhaps by now it was. It had taken them a long time to reach this point and he was so proud of his kiddos, both of them. Virgil had come a long way too, and although he had yet to say the words out loud where Patton could hear them, he proved his feelings in countless little ways. He said ‘love’ in action rather than words. 

Now Roman had the chance to prove his feelings once and for all. Maybe this was going to be easier than he thought. Easier but more painful. 

“I think it's time to talk to Virgil,” Patton said softly, making sure his voice was as even and understanding as before. “Remind him of how much we all care.” 

“Perhaps... perhaps you’re right,” Roman agreed, although there was a doubtful expression on his face still. “I’ve tried not to push but normally he shakes himself out of these dark days by now.”

“If you go fetch Logan, I’ll try and talk to him first. We don’t want him to think we’re ganging up on him but it’s important that we all be there for him. You should come last because you’re probably the one he’s going to want to curl up to if this gets emotional,” Patton explained, pushing aside the twinge of guilt he felt at using the word ‘if’. It was bound to get emotional and as much as he knew Virgil loved him, it was best they saved the strongest reason to keep going for last. Roman was Virgil’s rock, and if anyone was going to help him, in the end it would be him.

It was clear that Roman didn’t like the idea of not being the first one to talk to Virgil but equally clear that he didn’t have a better plan. After a couple of moments of struggling with his thoughts, Roman nodded slowly before turning to head out through the kitchen towards the small back area that Logan had transformed into a permanent night area for stargazing and where he was currently charting part of the night sky. 

Which left Patton to do what he said he was going to do and talk to Virgil. There was a funny feeling in the core of his stomach as he climbed the stairs, a strange mix of dread and excitement. There were so many ways in which this could go wrong but equally there were so many ways in which it could go right and he couldn’t wait to see Virgil give him that shy, beautiful smile once more. He couldn’t wait to give him a hug and for all of them to watch a movie together once more. His mind was full of all the fun, family related activities they could do, daydreaming a little as he reached the top of the stairs and turned the corner. 

Patton paused at the far end of the corridor, looking along it. His mind felt suddenly slow, stupid as he struggled to work out exactly what he was looking at. 

Virgil’s door was open. It was rarely open. Even when Virgil was having a good day, he would have it closed because he cared about his privacy. It was hard for Patton to understand that, but what he had quickly understood was that if it was a good day - or even an okay day, sometimes a bad day - then all he had to do was knock on the door and if Virgil was up to it, he would let him in. Yet now, it was wide open, no knocking required. After everything that had happened lately, Patton wouldn’t have expected to see it open. 

And was that... Deceit? Standing in front of Virgil’s open door? He was leaning in slightly, as though listening to something. Patton couldn’t actually hear anything from the room, but that made sense with how far away he was. Unless Virgil was screaming at the top of his lungs, he wouldn’t hear anything. 

The caped side vanished through the door frame, out of Patton’s line of sight. The movement shook him from his own stupor, and there was no time to be staring off into space! Not when Deceit had just entered Virgil’s room and was doing who knew what to his friend. Patton picked up the pace, almost running along the length of the corridor to the door that was still open. 

Foolish of Deceit not to bother to close it, but it was a mistake Patton was grateful for. He reached the entrance just in time to see Virgil fall into Deceit’s arms, his eyes closed. His skin looked paler than normal, even for Virgil’s standards. What had Deceit done to him? How dare he attack his son, how dare he knock Virgil out. 

It was easy to see that he was exhausted but that wasn’t what Patton was focused on right now. There was exhausted and then there was unconscious in the arms of someone that Virgil had always treated as his enemy. Patton didn’t know a lot about the past between the two of them - again, Virgil cared about his privacy and he, in turn, did his best to respect that when he could - but Patton was sure that he wouldn’t want to wake up and find Deceit was there. 

“Let go of him!” Patton cried out. Nothing else mattered but getting the danger away from Virgil. For so long, Virgil had been the protector. Now it was time for him to finally be able to return the favour and save him. 

Deceit looked up, and if Patton didn’t know better, he would say the expression on his face had been startled instead of evil or malicious. He seemed shocked, although Patton couldn’t tell if it was because Virgil was unconscious or because he was there. The snake probably hadn’t counted on anyone coming up here and interrupting his plan. 

Whatever his plan actually was. 

Assuming he had actually knocked out Virgil instead of the anxious side merely fainting. No, if Virgil was feeling that rough, he would never had let Deceit in surely. Which had to mean that Deceit had done something to him. Deceit had done something to his strange dark son and now Virgil was unconscious and limp against him when he should be in Patton’s arms or Roman’s. 

“Oh I’ll do that,” Deceit replied and for a second Patton actually thought he meant it. Only for Deceit to bend his knees slightly in order to dip and hook his hands under Virgil’s knees, drawing his still form properly up into his arms. It was almost as though he wanted to support him better. All the better to take him no doubt, Patton automatically taking a step forward, the world dropping away until it seemed as though the three of them and the little patch of ground they were on were the only things left in existence. 

Deceit stepped backwards at the same time, carrying Virgil with him. Behind them, a door shimmered to life, streaks of yellow, purple and black around the frame. It wasn’t a door that Patton knew and that meant he didn’t know where it led. Without knowing that, he wouldn’t be able to make one of his own to follow. The heavy wooden door swung open without a touch or word from Deceit, a shadowy area looming there. 

Both human and snake eyes never left Patton’s as he backed up and through the door, vanishing into the shadows in what felt like no time at all. Even as Deceit carried Virgil over the threshold, Patton was moving forward. He managed three whole steps before the two darker sides disappeared from view and the door slammed shut, the echo making Patton flinch. 

“No, no, no,” Patton whispered, still moving forward, his eyes wide and frightened. The door seemed to shimmer in front of him, starting to fade around the edges, the colours growing less vibrant as it started to vanish from sight, returning to whatever hallway it normally lived in.

Patton reacted without thinking. He wasn’t going to let Deceit take his son, he wasn’t going to lose Virgil to the darkness once more. There were still huge areas of Thomas’ mind that none of them understood. Not even Logan knew all the corridors that stretched out into tangled mazes of thoughts and processes. It was next to impossible to fully understand the mind apparently, even when you _were_ the mind. All Patton knew for sure was that Deceit had retreated to some corner of the mind with Virgil as his prisoner and unless he did something right now, they wouldn’t have a single lead to follow. Without that door, they had nothing. 

Lunging forward, Patton’s hand closed around the handle of the door. Instantly, the frame snapped back into existence, as real and as solid as it had ever been. Just a door freestanding in the middle of the room, as if they were in _Monsters Inc_. 

“Patton, what happened?” Roman’s voice sounded behind him, the panic ringing clearly in that question. “Where’s Virgil?”

He hadn’t even heard Roman come into the room. Patton hoped that he had brought Logan with him, because Logan always knew what to do, Logan could stop the panic that was trying to claw its way out of his chest and up his throat. Virgil was gone, he was _gone_ and Patton had just let it happen. He had let a member of his family be stolen, he had lost Roman’s boyfriend. He was a terrible friend and this felt like his fault. Or maybe it was Deceit’s fault. 

“Deceit!” Patton gasped out, eyes still fixed on the door, the only link he had left to wherever Virgil had been taken. “He was here, Virgil was unconscious and he took him! He took him through this door and I don’t know where, but I’m going after them.” 

“Patton, wait-” Logan began and if Patton had been thinking clearly he might have noticed the hint of panic in Logan’s voice as he started to twist the handle. He might have wondered why and stopped to ask before acting on the impulse that yelled the longer he waited, the further they got away from him. He might have come up with a plan to get Virgil back. There were so many possibilities if he allowed himself those extra few moments to think things through. 

He wasn’t doing any of those things however and so he didn’t. 

Patton opened the door. 

For a split second, there was nothing there. Just a black space which could have been a room or simply a corridor. It was an absence of anything, a negative space which made the hairs on the back of Patton’s neck stand up on end as he peered into it. Something in the corner of his eye had him shifting his gaze slightly to stare at the solitary light in the area. 

A single spec of white... snow? Was that snow? It floated down in front of him, Patton staring at it in confusion. Another followed, and then another and another. Suddenly, what had been black was now alive with falling snow, the flakes dancing in the air around them. Air that was suddenly a lot more violent than before, spinning around to curl around all three of the sides and tug. The force was wholly unexpected, insistent, a pull that was impossible to resist. 

Patton just had enough time to think it reminded him of the tree door from _The Nightmare Before Christmas_, and then he was flying through it, swept into the vortex that swirled madly around them. They stumbled through the door like a row of dominos, first Patton, then Roman and finally Logan. Arms and legs flailing everywhere, a chorus of shouts and screams as they tried to stay upright. Not that Patton had any real idea of which way ‘up’ even was anymore. 

“We have to stay together!” Logan shouted above the din. “Hands! Hold hands!” 

Try as Patton might, he couldn’t quite reach either of them. Fingers stretched and flexed, reaching for the logical side, the creative side but the snowflakes were always there to spin him away when it felt as though he would finally be able to grab hold. It wasn’t any comfort to tell that the other two were having no better luck, each isolated in the snowstorm. 

Above the screams, Patton heard the sound of the door slamming shut behind them.

And then - silence.


	2. A Long Cold Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I am so overwhelmed and honoured by the response the first chapter got, it means so much to know people are enjoying it in the same way I enjoyed writing it. Plus, Ride or Die Dark Sides as a tag sure got a reaction huh. They are trying their best guys. It’s just... they might have a warped idea of what the best actually is.
> 
> This chapter introduces some characters from the Sanders Shorts. They are mostly there just to add flavour and fill out the ranks of the cast. 
> 
> And without further ado, let us go down that rabbit hole!

** **

### A Long Cold Night

** **

It was so cold. Why was it so cold? Patton had so many blankets on his bed because he hated the cold that much. The mountain of them were so comfortable to fall onto and then he got to enjoy the game of crawling under all of them and arranging them to his liking. On the very rare nights that it got too hot even for Patton, he would arrange the extra ones around his room like an art display of blankets. Some draped over his chair, over the curtains. One covering the door, a series making up a huge rug that completely covered the carpet. So long as they were all being used and appreciated, Patton was happy.

He had only rarely had to do that though. As far as Patton was concerned, they _were_ works of art and he kept meaning to make a proper exhibit for them so he could show off Roman’s talented work but it was finding the time to do that on top of everything else. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty every night he went to bed with them displayed around his room and know he hadn’t shown the others again, but Roman knew how much he adored them. Right? 

The main reason why he so rarely put them up like that, and the reason why he had never gotten around to making a show out of them was simple. He liked being warm. He liked bundling up layer upon layer, getting cosy. Even warm nights were made better by a series of blankets on top of each other, trapping the heat in some super clever way that Logan could no doubt explain. 

Sometimes one or two of them would fall off during the night because he was a wriggler in bed but that was okay, that was exactly why he had invested in so many. That and he hadn’t been able to pick between the different patterns whenever Roman offered to make him one. It just seemed so cruel to pick one idea over another, especially when the Creative side had spent so long making them. Patton always made sure to be honest to Roman, which was easy enough when they were so good, about how brilliant they were, rotating them faithfully so each one got a cuddle.

Yet now he was freezing cold.

And wet. The wet was far more worrying, Patton finally realising that he wasn’t in his bed. The memories came to him slowly, no sudden bolt like in the story books. It took him a few long painful seconds of staring at his ‘pillow’ to realise the white mound was in fact, snow and not something he was meant to be resting his head against. That at least explained the wet. And the cold. Not how he got here, but it was a start. 

It took another few long painful seconds for the last thing he did remember to come back into focus. That door, Virgil in Deceit’s arms, the swirling vortex that sucked them all away and Logan’s shout that they should stick together. Now he was lying in the snow somewhere, his limbs too frozen and tired to move and look for the others. Patton would have heard them talking or at least moving, if they were next to him. Or else he would have seen them, but all he could see aside from the snow was darkness. It was night, wherever he was, still half in the snow, his head tilted so he could breathe, cheek slowly turning numb from the contact. 

He needed to move. He knew he needed to move, he had to get out of this snow and find shelter. He had to find Virgil before it was too late but his body didn’t seem to want to respond to his mental orders. There was a bone aching tiredness running through him, something sinking all the way through Patton and all he really wanted to do was go to sleep.

Strange, he almost felt warm now.

That was... that was bad. Patton was pretty sure that was bad. If Logan was here, he would know the answer for sure and it made Patton want to cry a little, thinking about the logical side wasn’t here. Who knew where they were? Who knew where he was beyond somewhere cold and wet. This was all wrong and he should move. He really, really should... move. The urge to cry would be a terrible thing to give into while lying in the snow, as if he needed another reason why he should get out of the snow and find somewhere warm to rest. 

Maybe he could just close his eyes for a moment. Just until the need to cry had passed a little bit. Just. For a moment. 

“Oi, you dead?” The low voice was instantly familiar, Patton ignoring the prodding sensation of a finger against his shoulder blade to instead focus on his delight. Virgil! He would know that voice anywhere. He had been so worried, but he should have realised that Virgil would have found him instead of the other way around. The joy was like the best sort of blanket, heat wrapping around him and granting him new energy. Enough to move at last. 

Patton rolled over onto his back to look upwards, blinking a little against the harsh glare of the streetlamp, the cold light creating a sort of halo around the head of the person bent over him. Not just any person. But the person he had wanted to see more than anyone else. Virgil looked... a little different than the last time he had seen him. He was awake for a start, which was an improvement. He had a scar that looked old on his face, which really wasn’t. It seemed long since healed, pale pink instead of any angry shade, running across his left eyebrow and down his cheek an inch. 

He had no idea how Virgil had managed to get a scar or how it had healed so quickly but Patton instantly wanted to fight whoever had hurt him like that. Virgil had already been through so much, he had suffered so much and now the mind was hurting him again? It wasn’t fair and Patton was going to do whatever he could to make sure things were better from where on out. 

The scar wasn’t the only thing that had somehow changed with Virgil. 

He was dressed very differently as well. Gone was the familiar hoodie and in its place was what looked like a patchwork bikers jacket. It was mostly black, with dark purple patches artfully scattered across it, each one sown on with equally dark thread. A few even had words or symbols embroidered on them. The whole thing looked lovingly hand made but it was very form fitting, not something Patton would have imagined his strange dark son wearing. The leather pants and heavy boots with steel capped toes were also completely different. 

Even his so called ‘precious bangs’ were gone, hair slicked back in a style that Patton assumed was cool. It was just... shocking, to see Virgil like this, without anything to hide behind. His eyes were clearly visible, wary, brown eyes filled with mistrust. The emotion was so clear to see without any hair, the overall sight of him so striking that once again, it took Patton a few seconds too long to realise that the feeling he could see reflected within those eyes wasn’t the one he expected. 

Wary? About _him_?

Virgil stared down at him without a smile. Without, Patton noticed, a single hint that he liked him. Or for that matter, without any hint that he _knew_ him. 

“Oh.” Virgil said at last, sounding almost disappointed. He crouched, examining Patton carefully, a switchblade dancing between his fingers as he did. There was something slightly hypnotic about the casual way in which he made the blade spin, dipping and diving through his fingers without ever once slowing down. “You’re alive. I mean. Yay for you I guess?”

“I’m alive...” Patton agreed slowly, pushing himself into an upright position, his brain scrabbling to make some sense out of this. Virgil let him move, shuffling backwards to give him some space. Although Patton couldn’t fail to notice how he was still watching him as if he half expected him to attack. Or the way the blade was still flicking in and out, one wrong move away from stabbing something. Or someone. 

“What are you even doing in this part of town? Like, full offense dude, you are not exactly dressed for the occasion. It’s midnight, and you’re in the middle of contested territory after a snow storm. You looking to get killed?” Virgil’s tone had taken on a sadly familiar aggressive lilt to it. It had been a long time since Patton had last heard that voice being used in his direction.

Back when Virgil had been Anxiety. Back when the only way he had known to make them listen to him was to be the scariest thing in the room. All in order to protect Thomas and the rest of them from the other scary things in the world. It had been more than a mask, Patton knew that. He would have liked to carry on pretending to believe otherwise, to convince himself that it had all been an act. That his best friend had just done that because he had no choice and now they could all ride off into the sunset and never think nasty thoughts again. 

But back then, Virgil had embraced that. And even now, when he could have turned his back on his past and just labelled it as a mistake to ignore, he still owned up to his actions. Bad ones as well as good. It was brave of him, braver than Patton felt he could be. None of that mattered right now. 

Not when Virgil didn’t know who he was. He was wearing different clothes and growling in a scary manner. Somehow, Patton didn’t feel using his name and grabbing him for that hug like he really wanted was the correct thing to do here. Not until he could work out what was happening and so he pushed down his automatically reaction and tried to not give into those urges. There would be plenty of time to hug Virgil later. And once he did, he was going to squeeze him so hard that his bones popped and tell him just how much he loved him. 

“I, um, got lost?” Patton offered sheepishly, unable to think of anything better to say. It was the truth after all. He was just leaving out a few pieces of the puzzle. Like how he had gotten lost falling through a doorway after his kidnapped best friend who was now dressed like a scary biker and was still waving a blade around like he wanted to actually use it.

But this was Virgil. He was just acting scary. He would never actually do anything to hurt him... right? Patton wanted to believe that, wanted to hope this was Virgil but if it was, then why did he look so different? Why didn’t he know who he was? It wasn’t amnesia like he had seen in movies because he was acting as if he were someone else, as if there was a whole lifetime's worth of memories inside his head. 

“You... got lost,” Virgil parroted back to him, voice flat. Flat had to be better than aggressive right? Blade finally snapped back into place for the last time, blade slotting back into his pocket and out of sight. Patton couldn’t help but breathe a little easier as he did that, feeling some of the tension sink away. It was all going to be okay now, Virgil was here and was going to help him. Hopefully in turn, Patton could then help Virgil and he needed to get back to the others. He needed to get Virgil out of this fantasy and somewhere safe. 

Patton offered him his best hopeless smile, adding a shrug for good measure. Virgil gave a sigh, fingers lifting to massage at the front of his head as though he had a headache, his lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. He didn’t look very happy but at least he wasn’t growing or wielding a weapon anymore. He didn’t see Patton as a threat and that was good, that was something he could build upon. He was going to earn his kiddos trust all over again if that was what it took to get him out of here. Except how he would or where ‘out’ even was, Patton didn’t yet know. But that was okay! The answers would come when it was time for them to come, of that he was sure. 

“You should get home before the Double D’s show up. I’m surprised they aren’t here yet.” Virgil finally looked away from Patton to scan the surrounding area. It gave him the chance to do the same. Not that it helped much. He was on the side of a street... somewhere. Darkened buildings loomed up on either side, pressing and crowding them. It almost made Patton feel claustrophobic, how tall they rose, jagged teeth in a gaping mouth. They were empty and cold, uncaring blocks that made Patton shiver a little at the sight of them. 

The only real light came from the streetlamps. The one they were both huddled under was working, as were the few nearby but by the end of the street they had fizzled out, the road stretching out into a nothing that was really doing little for Patton’s nerves. This was scary. This whole thing was scary now that he took the time to actually think about it. Virgil not knowing him was the scariest thing of all, Patton feeling a moment of blind panic before he forced the fear away - Virgil was going to know him, they were going to be best friends all over again. Then there wouldn’t be anything to be afraid of. 

Above them, he could make out very faint stars, just tiny hints of specks of light. The world was more than this gloomy street and Patton shouldn’t forget that. 

“I... don’t know where I am. Or where home is,” Patton admitted softly. There was a lot he didn’t know and he really wished Logan was here. Logan would have all the answers, of that Patton was sure. He wasn’t though and that meant that somehow Patton was going to have to figure this all out himself. The first step was getting Virgil’s trust and then he would have to see if he could find any of the others. Yes, that was the best plan. Find them. 

Maybe he could just wait this out. Maybe it was a dream or a test of some sort. Or a trick, but he didn’t get that sort of feeling from this Virgil. Patton liked to think he was normally a pretty good judge of character. He knew he let his own bias and feelings get in the way sometimes and maybe that was happening a bit here, but when he looked at this slick haired Virgil he didn’t feel afraid. 

“What’s your name?” Virgil suddenly asked. He lifted his hands to his mouth as he spoke, blowing on them. Hesitantly, Patton did the same, copying the motion as best he could. It brought a little bit of warmth to his fingers, enough for him to start to move them and feel life start to creep back into them. With that came the awful pins and needles, tiny little shocks of pain that let Patton realise just how cold and frozen they must have been. He forced himself to keep breathing on them, to gently twitch tham and force the blood to start flowing normally. 

“Patton, Patton Sanders.” It was only as he said the name that he suddenly worried that Virgil might have the same one in this world, that he might get suspicious and it wasn’t like it was Smith or Jones, it wasn’t the most common surname in the world. And he was a terrible liar, if Virgil confronted him directly about something that didn’t quite work in his story, he would fold like a wet paper lunch bag. 

Virgil however, didn’t react. 

“And you don’t know how to get home? Can’t you just... find shelter somewhere? What am I saying, this city doesn’t have shelter like that.” Virgil turned away, words now directed at himself rather than Patton, his eyebrows drawn together in a worried frown. He was also flexing his fingers, idly moving them backwards and forwards as he considered Patton carefully. Virgil sighed. Even that sound was sharp, a brief exhale of air through his teeth, as if he was cutting the oxygen around him in two. 

“Fine,” he said at last, shaking his head slightly. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I can’t leave you here, you’ll either die or he’ll find you and then you will wish you were dead. You can come with me for the night but you behave and come morning you’re gone okay?” 

“Okay!” Patton replied eagerly and this was even better than he could have hoped to have Virgil offer to let him in. Virgil sighed again, lifting a hand to gesture him forward. He slung an arm around Patton’s shoulder, a gesture that was far too deliberate and measured to be a casual gesture of friendship, no matter how much he might wish it to be. 

They started to move, Virgil still holding him lightly around the neck. Gradually, his grip started to tighten. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to warn. There was a threat in the motion. 

“Oh and if I find out you are faking this because you’re playing to betray me and my own, you’re going to wish you were dead in that snowdrift.” Virgil gave him a smile as he spoke, something that was far too sharp for comfort and no doubt intended to terrify. Patton still didn’t feel as scared as he was probably supposed to. It was hard to be scared of Virgil when he had seen his friend cry at the death of Musfa. Which was a deeply upsetting moment and should never be watched. Virgil had thought he would be able to handle it, had claimed that he would be fine. 

Patton had seen him wipe at his eyes as Simba ran for his life. He hadn’t commented on it, not wanting to draw attention to Virgil and make him feel self conscious about crying, merely nudged the tissues closer and carried on sobbing himself, loud enough to mask any sounds Virgil might have made. What were friends for, if not to protect their reputations and keep them looking dark and mysterious. Patton knew the truth and that had been enough for him. It had only confirmed his belief that Virgil was really a soft puffball like himself, which meant that no matter how hard he might try now, Patton would always know the truth. 

There was a soft gooey centre inside of him. 

“What’s your name?” Patton asked, repeating the question back to him, curious to know if that had changed as well. Virgil looked away for a moment, scanning the streets as they started to move, almost as though he expected something to leap out of the dark places between buildings. 

“Virgil. Just... Virgil.” 

Well, at least his name was still the same here. That was one less thing to worry about, no need to fear that he might accidentally say the name before he was supposed to know it. He wasn’t sure how he was going to carry on having conversations with Virgil without giving away the truth, that he knew far more than he was meant to. Or how he was going to control his natural reaction to hug and love Virgil. 

His friend was never keen on hugs, and this version of Virgil seemed to be continuing that trend. He couldn’t imagine this leather clad, guarded Virgil, welcoming any sort of friendly embrace but Patton was all about love and reassurance. He didn’t know how else he was going to get through to him. Offering that kind of support had worked before, but it might not in this instance. And anyway, Patton had a horrible feeling that they didn’t have the time to really earn his trust in that way. 

There might not be any clocks visible, but he could feel something ticking in the back of his head, a whispered warning that he was on a very tight deadline here. Patton was nothing but feelings and so he tried to trust them. Even if it was next to impossible to know what was a feeling he should listen to and what was a feeling that just turned out to be a badly digested piece of pizza. 

He was just going to have to go with his gut, hope it wasn’t pepperoni and try and find some way through the story. Or whatever this was. If only he could have a couple of moments to think, but that would mean possibly losing Virgil and Patton wasn’t going to risk that. He kept giving the other side little looks when he could, trying to gauge some understanding of who his friend was right now. 

Patton was pretty sure Virgil was aware he was doing it. The way his jaw was clenched, a tiny muscle twitching there was a dead give away. For whatever reason, he didn’t actually call Patton out on it, the moral side trying to make an effort to try and keep his eyes on the street in front of them. It never worked, and sooner or later, he found himself examining the profile of Virgil once more, that tight dark purple leather jacket, the hair that looked good but so odd on Virgil’s face. He had always wanted his kiddo to feel comfortable around them. Possibly even to the extent that he would stop hiding his face but somehow, now that he had gotten his wish, it just didn’t seem right. 

Eventually they rounded a corner onto a run down street which was full of residential buildings crammed together. 

“Here we go. Mi casa.” Virgil pointed across the road at a small, squat building set a few feet back from the pavement. What might have once been charitably called a garden filled the space between the pavement and the brick building. 

Brown, decaying tufts of grass littered the space, a broken down pedal bike in several pieces scattered across the space. There were scuff marks against the brick work, as though things had been thrown against it with some force and then never cleaned up. 

Patton couldn’t help the worried twist of his lips as he stared at the run down building and Virgil lived here? But it was so... dirty. One of the windows had been smashed in and a black bin liner stuck up in its place to try and keep the wind and rain out. It meant there would be little light and Patton doubted much escape from the elements. 

This was no place for his friend to live. This was no place for _anyone_ to live.

Even Patton knew better than to say that right now, not with the connection they had managed to form still so new and fragile. He followed Virgil up the path, lips pressed together in a tight, unhappy line. There had to be something he could do to make this better. Some way he could get Virgil into a house that at least had proper walls and windows. And not what looked like a miniature warzone in front of the door. Speaking of that, it looked half rotten, dirty and stained as Virgil gave it a push.

“Sticks sometimes,” Virgil explained with a grunt, kicking at the lower left corner of the wooden door. It groaned and creaked under the force, finally swinging open and no, Patton couldn’t let this carry on. 

It didn’t matter if this was real or not. Or if this was really _his_ Virgil or not. All that mattered was that he deserved so much better than this, and Patton would do whatever he could to make things better. At the very least, he might be able to fix that window. Patton understood the theory of a lot of D.I.Y. He was the dad figure for a reason after all. He had never really had the chance to actually test much of what he knew because Thomas wasn’t into that sort of thing. 

The arts and crafts projects they had tried hadn’t gone brilliantly but making costumes was completely different to fixing a door or window. Right? Yeah they were both crafty, but that was woodwork and using your hands and other manly expressions. It was the sort of thing that dad’s were meant to be good at, so Patton should be good at it. He hoped. 

The interior of the house was just as depressing and as unwelcoming as the outside. Faded and peeling wallpaper lined the narrow hallway, the colours fading away into grey as they vanished into the darkness. What little light there was seemed to come from the entrance they had just come through and occasional slashes of light at floor level, possibly the cracks under closed doors. 

Was there no electricity or anything? Had this world been that cruel to Virgil that it wouldn’t even give him that? 

“Virgil! You’re back!” Another figure detached itself from the shadows of the hallway, coming forward to greet them. Patton recognized him as one of Thomas’ short characters. Nate. He was moving at a speed that belied the role in which he played during the shorts. There was nothing slow about him right now. He was wearing a similar leather jacket to the one Virgil was sporting. Although this one was just black. His hair was slicked back in the same style and what, was it a uniform or something? 

Nate beckoned them to follow, pushing open another door to the side and into an area that was thankfully much brighter. And a lot colder too, a wind blowing through it and making Patton shiver a little. Not that he had been particularly warm to start with, but even stepping inside a building had helped a little. This was the room that had the broken window. As he had suspected, it didn’t do much against the weather. One corner of the black bag had clearly been taped and retaped many times, a wet puddle underneath it. 

“Okay Nate. You have that face on you again. What happened.” Virgil’s voice was firm and direct. There was no hint of nerves, any trace of the anxious boy that Patton knew so well in the tone. He was staring at Nate with a very serious expression on his face. All he needed were some glasses and a necktie to properly complete the look. Nate, in turn, looked flustered and not at all like his usual calm and collected self. 

“The Duke paid a visit while you were gone Virge. He made... well, you can guess what kind of performance he gave. Nobody was hurt but it was a close run thing. He wrecked your bike.”

Virgil uttered a series of curses that would normally have made Patton tell him off and whip out the swear jar. Somehow, that didn’t seem appropriate. Not with Virgil looking as angry as he did and Nate staring at him with a mix of distrust and simple curiosity. 

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the building, Patton could see that there were a couple of characters scattered around, most lurking in doorways that led out of the room to various other parts of the house. A few had stepped fully inside, lining the edges of the room and keeping to the shadows. 

They formed a very loose circle, with the three of them in the middle. All of them were dressed in leather jackets. Which had to mean that all of them were the same part of this group that had apparently been formed out of various elements of Thomas. They all looked to Virgil as though he was their leader. And they all stared at Patton as if he was a dangerous outsider. Some kind of deadly bug that needed to be stepped on sooner rather than later.

Patton couldn’t say he was surprised. He looked so out of place amongst the leather coats and brooding expressions. He would have looked odd out in the streets in the dead of an apparent winter regardless, but surrounded by what was clearly a gang of some sort, it only made it that much more obvious that he wasn’t part of this world.

Despite all of that, and the unspoken feeling that he was trapped within the circle of bodies they had made, Patton didn’t feel threatened. How could he when he was next to Virgil? A Virgil that might not know him, but had still saved him from freezing on the streets. A Virgil that had then brought him home because he hadn’t wanted to leave him defenseless. Virgil wouldn’t let them hurt him. 

Feelings of pride grew inside his chest at the thought of Virgil being the leader. He always knew his kiddo had what it took to look after people and to guide them. In this place, he was respected and loved. He had a group of people that seemed prepared to follow him without hesitation. The house might not be the right sort of living place, and a gang really wasn’t the type of life that he wanted for Virgil - but Patton had no doubt that the family he had made for himself was what he should have. Albeit minus the most important people who loved him. Still, Patton was here now. He could start to make that up. 

Virgil shook his head and drew in a deep breath before speaking in a clear, precise manner. 

“Nate, you go to the garage. I’m hoping you took my bike there yeah?” At Nate’s nod he carried on talking. “Put a fire under their butts, I need it back in good condition now.. I know the Duke, that was just his idea of a warm up. He’ll be back and I’m damned if there won’t be a very warm welcome for him. He wants to come into our territory? We will show him what happens to people who do.” 

With a nod, Nate turned and hurried out of the room. Virgil’s eyes swept the group still assembled, eyeing them thoughtfully. He appeared utterly unaffected by the darker glares that one or two of them were sending Patton’s way. Finally, he beckoned one of them forward. It was a character that Patton rarely interacted with, the one Thomas would use whenever he needed an antagonist that wasn’t any specific side or function. Virgil put his arm around his shoulder, looking more relaxed than Patton had seen him since this whole mess started. 

“Anton, this is Patton. Take him to the kitchen and give him some food okay? Maybe a blanket. And see if you can get him something else to wear, my eyes are starting to hurt looking at that outfit. Just... take care of him. I saved his sorry ass, so he needs to last long enough to repay that.”

“Virgi-”

“We will talk once you’re fed.” Virgil’s voice was firm, without a hint of wavering. He was used to giving commands and more than that, he was clearly used to people carrying them out when he told them too. It certainly wasn’t a tone that would welcome arguing and Patton knew what battles to pick. It didn’t seem worth wasting his energy trying to argue with him right now.

All he could do was nod and let Anton lead him through into what was - apparently - a kitchen. It looked more like a room with a dirty table and a couple of chairs in the middle, and some counters around the edge that he really wouldn’t trust any sort of food on. Anton gestured him over to a rather wobbly looking chair, Patton obediently sitting down on it. 

“We don’t have much,” Anton told him, voice little more than a growl. “Duke likes to see to that. We would all starve without Virgil and his efforts. He brings me one more mouth to feed, I will find something for that mouth.” 

That was all Anton seemed willing to say, the male turning from him in order to rummage in the cupboards. Dirty and dingy counter tops or not, he was starting to realise just how hungry he was. Patton watched with awe as Anton pulled out a pristine pan, the stainless steel almost gleaming like silver in the dim light. A container of some sort of soup was pulled from a small under the counter fridge. From the brief glimpse inside of it, Patton had been able to tell that it was kept spotless, with the items inside all clearly labeled and sorted.

So they did have electricity after all. But apparently not very much. Virgil had to have chosen to prioritise, to pick the ability to have fresh and safe food over the ability to have bright lights. 

He should have known better than to doubt Virgil. He was still Anxiety, he was still the same person he knew. Under the tough outer shell, under the leather and the stern leader, there was someone who worried about the health and well being of them all. He would never allow them to eat something if it was unhygienic or dangerous. 

“Here,” Anton grunted, pushing a steaming bowl of soup towards him. Patton blinked, staring at the food for a moment. How had he missed him cooking that? It should have taken him a couple of minutes to warm it through on the hob but somehow it had all happened in a flash. The steam rising off it told Patton that it was hot though, the moral side gingerly picking up the spoon placed beside the bowl and taking a small sip.

It was a delicious, hearty vegetable soup. Probably full of any number of random vegetables they had been able to get their hands on but put it all together and it made something very tasty. Anton moved around in the background while he slowly ate, his mind on other matters besides the food.


	3. Straight on till Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again! I was worried about getting this part out in time due to some computer issues but I’ve just managed to do it. Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter, who is ready to find out what Roman is up to? 
> 
> Tumblr gonna tumblr. Come say hi @theeternalspace

** **

### Straight on till Morning

** **

They say you never remember the start of a dream. That you simply slide into the roll mid way through the action and pick up where the imaginary version of yourself left off. A lot of the time, people didn’t even realise they had been dreaming until the dream was long since over and by then it was too late to go back and change the parts you would have liked to change.

For Roman, it wasn’t exactly like that. 

He found himself halfway through an action true, his arm literally swinging downwards, a curved blade in his hand and a group of men cheering him on as he slashed a rope clean in two. His blade bit deep into the wood that the rope had been tied to, a series of old gashes along the whole length telling him that this was not the first time that a weapon had been used in this manner. Roman lifted his head a little, following the split end to see what had been attached to the other end. 

The remains of another ship started to bob away from his own, the wooden beams of the boat groaning and creaking as it tilted helplessly in the sea, taking on more and more water by the second. That ship was floundering. Badly. It had been through a battle, flames still licking at some of the wood, the sails ripped and singed, more a blackened mess than anything usable. 

At least there were no signs of life aboard it. It looked like it had been a very bad loser in the battle. He had no idea what he had missed. Which was a little odd in all honesty. One of the many talents that Roman possessed was the ability to know he was in a dream. Logan had a name for it, but quite frankly it was boring and so Roman had merely nodded whenever the subject came up. Who needed to know the name, when you could just know the wonderful uses instead? He not only knew his dreams but thanks no doubt to being Creativity, unlike all the others, could actually control them, bend them to his will. 

It was normally quite fun, to realise halfway through an adventure that you were in a dream, to see what the subconscious had come up with. A lot of the time, it was a very useful tool to have, his mind turning over some problem and coming up with a solution without Roman even realising he was working on the issue. It amazed him, what he could come up with, he never failed to surprise and impress himself. 

For what felt like the first time however, Roman didn’t know what was going on. He was halfway through a dramatic scene and nobody had handed him the script. The other men were dressed like pirates and sailors, the stink of a few of them drifting over and making him want to gag. Thankfully, they were all chatting amongst themselves, a number lifting pewter tankards up in the air and shouting. Despite the slowly sinking ship to the side of them, the atmosphere of the whole place was rather like a party. Everyone making merry and Roman stuck at the bow of the ship with no idea what to do next or what had come before. 

Well, no idea, was unfair. He was able to pick up quite a lot of the general mood of the piece. 

He was a pirate it seemed. On board a ship of pirates. If the way it had been him to cut the rope had been any hint, he was the leader. They were no doubt brave, good bad men. Pirates with hearts of gold, with hidden histories of unjust rulers and powerful men. They had all been driven to this point because there was no chance that Roman would have ever allowed someone wicked to join his crew. No, they had to be the misfits and the outcasts, the ones that the rest of the world had turned their backs on, but the ones that he had known were really diamonds in the rough. 

It seemed as though he had been through a battle as a pirate, and that, of course, he had come out on top. Well, naturally, he had. He was Prince Roman, he was the hero of the hour regardless of anything else. It would be impossible for it to have gone any other way. 

“To the Captain!” One of the pirates from the back shouted. He thrust his tankard even higher into the air, the pale golden brown liquid splashing and spilling over the side as he did. “He’s never laid us astray yet. No deaths, none of us even wounded, you can’t say you’d be that lucky on any other ship! To the Captain and his talent!” 

The roar of approval went in response to those words, a billowing wave of noise that rolled over the whole ship until it seemed as though there was no other sounds left in the world. Roman grinned, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he surveyed the men in front of him, all cheering him and his apparently brilliant tactics. It was a wonderful feeling, to be loved and adored as he clearly was to these men. 

He had never really had much desire to play at being a pirate but right now he couldn’t think why. The outfits were on point - some of them were disgusting but that did fit into the theme. They probably smelt as bad - if not worse - than they looked, and Roman couldn’t help but feel glad that the direction of the wind meant he was spared that horror. The important outfit, his own, was wonderful. That was all that mattered, Roman examining himself with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. 

He was dressed in cream and red clothing, a floor length dark red leather coat, padded and so comfortable that he almost didn’t miss his usual tunic and sash. Hints of gold thread flashed through the outfit, picking out various patterns on the coat. Swirls and other little designs that only made the finished design look that much more impressive. 

His shirt had a high collar, which was artfully undone at the top, showing off his bronzed neck and part of his chest. The collar only served to draw attention to his throat, to the vast stretch of unmarked skin that was almost begging someone to take advantage of the ease of access. The perfect outfit in fact, to let Roman show himself off with. 

A shame there was nobody around that he wanted to show off to, but if he remembered this dream when he woke up he was going to have to suggest it to Virgil. The two of them could have a lot of fun playing pirate, Roman’s smile curling into something distinctly more wicked as he imagined it. Virgil would no doubt splutter and blush at the sight but that was all part of the fun. Plus, he knew his little emo. He wasn’t nearly as bashful and shy as he liked to pretend. After the blushing would come wicked smirks of his own and the day would end with Roman’s neck dotted with marks from his love’s lips. Or so he hoped anyway. 

Part of Roman wanted to try and wake himself up right now so he could jot down these ideas. If he did that however, he probably wouldn’t come back to this world when he went back to sleep. And Roman really wanted to see where the imagination was taking him this time. It was bound to be inspiring and give him more ideas he could use come the morning. Some of them might actually be useful for a video idea as well, and that was always his priority. 

Tragically, it seemed as though he would have no choice but to bask in the applause and love of his dream crew for a little longer. Truly, however would he cope? It was a sacrifice that he was willing to make for the good of Thomas however, Roman slotting his sabre back into its place on his belt. He moved forward, aware of how his coat fluttered majestically in a well timed breeze, no doubt making him look even cooler.

Roman really hoped he remembered this because he really, really, wanted to remake this coat. It felt awesome. 

His eyes swept over the dirty and dishevelled group of pirates that were apparently his crew, noting them all carefully. A few wore versions of Thomas’ face, but most seemed to be figments of the Imagination proper. People Thomas knew or had passed once in the street. There was a nice mix of faces staring back at him, although they all shared a couple of traits. A woeful lack of dental hygiene and the need for a bath being two of them. Idly, Roman wondered if he could order some of his crew to dive into the sea for whatever reason. Even a salty pirate had to smell better than the disgusting aroma that was floating into his nostrils. 

“Treasure’s in your quarters Captain!” One of the dirtier pirates almost roared the words, another cheer of delight rising up from the crew. Roman couldn’t help but preen a little at the title. He had assumed, of course, that he would be the captain, the leader of this dream, but it was nice to get the acknowledgement spoken out loud. 

“As per your orders, we’ve not touched it. Bit hard keeping some of the lads back, but they all respect you Captain. No matter how much they wanted some.” The leer that went with the words was a little... unsettling in all honesty. It was as though the pirate knew something that Roman didn’t. Which, honestly, was probably true, he was still piecing together the fragments as he got them, to try and build up a complete picture. But the pirate wasn’t supposed to know that. 

He paused for a moment, examining the one that had spoken thoughtfully. He looked worse than the rest. Big and bulky, a large gold tooth gleaming at the front of his mouth. One eye was completely covered by a black eyepatch, a tiny skull and crossbones painted on it. Just in case there was any doubt whatsoever that the man was actually a pirate by trade. Roman was pretty sure if he wasn’t partly obscured by the rest of the crew, he would find that the pirate who spoke was in fact a peg leg. No doubt the red parrot cawing madly on the mast belonged to him. 

He looked, in short, exactly like a pirate should look. Roman couldn’t help but feel a little offended by that. This was Thomas’ imagination. This was his realm, his world and the best he could come up with when he needed a pirate to actually talk to was one that was nothing but stereotypes? It was so... predictable. Bland. He was going to have to see if he couldn’t come up with something more tasteful and imaginative than that, because right now he was dull. 

But he had mentioned treasure. Every pirate’s dream, Roman moving towards the stern of his ship and where the Captains Cabin was very clearly location. It was painted in gold and red. In fact, the whole of his ship seemed to be decked out in those colours, Roman glancing over the side as he went to see the ruby red was on the outside as well. A good little ship. Not what he wanted to focus on.

Treasure. What could it be? Gold? Jewellery? Roman hoped for something more exotic and exciting but considering how badly he had let himself down with the design of his pirate crew, he couldn’t help but worry it would be equally disappointing in how predictable it was. It would be wonderful, of that he was sure, but this was supposed to be part of his wilder flights of fantasy. It should be something as beautiful and as stunning as Roman himself. 

The heavy, old fashioned key was pressed into his hand, Roman accepting it gratefully. He didn’t need to be told that it was to the door of his cabin, he could feel the weight of that knowledge sinking into his palm as he held the key securely. 

Why would they need to lock the treasure up, if all the crew had agreed to follow Roman’s orders? Were they untrustworthy? They were pirates and Mr. Eyepatch had said they wanted to have some of it but that also they had done as they were told and refrained. So why was it locked up? For that matter, why had Roman told them they couldn’t have their share?

If he wanted to be a good pirate Captain, he was meant to share out the treasure so that everyone got a slice. It was what kept them loyal and more importantly, kept them all fed and watered. So maybe whatever was in there was something different after all. Something special, and worthy of his own great imagination. 

With a loud clicking sound, the key turned in the lock. With an equally dramatic creak, the door slowly swung open. He stepped inside, squinting a little while his eyes adjusted to the dim light. At first glance there didn’t seem anything unusual in there. No great piles of gold, no bags of treasure that he could pour and swim in Scrooge McDuck style. With a slight frown, Roman let the door close behind him. He moved over to the desk and lit the lantern there, warm light instantly flaring into being and throwing the whole room into various shades of yellow and orange. 

A flicker of movement in the far corner of the cabin, the furthest from the door had him turning. There was a figure pressed up against the wall, and it was no wonder he had missed them when he had first entered. They looked so small and hunched up, huddled into a ball as though hoping that somehow, they couldn’t be noticed. The slight movement of an arm had given them away and Roman could only imagine how scared they had to be now he was looking directly at them.

“Step out into the light,” Roman ordered in what he hoped was his most calming voice. The figure didn’t move. He had to admit, he couldn’t really blame them. An order was still an order, no matter how softly it was phrased. He was going to have to try something else. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Roman added. Still, the person remained pressed tight against the wooden planks, as though they could somehow become one with the ship. Or that Roman might possibly forget they were there if they just stayed perfectly still for long enough. It was clear that he was going to have to take the first step to get them to acknowledge him and work out where this dream was going.

Roman picked up the lantern and stepped forward, lifting it higher so that it could shed some light on the identity of the mysterious person and presumably the treasure his crew had spoken of. The light filled the space instantly, chasing away the shadows. The figure was bathed in the warm light, throwing their sharp features into even sharper contrast. Not that Roman needed bright light in order to recognise him. If anything it was embarrassing that he hadn’t known who it was sooner. 

Virgil.

Now that was a treasure indeed, Roman mentally thanking himself for this dream. He had the real thing in waking hours and that was far better than anything this world had to offer, of course.

But the sight of Virgil in sharp kohl eyeliner, a rich loose purple shirt, matching cape and trousers that were so tight they should be illegal was certainly a real contender. Roman took a slow step forward, taking in some of the other details. Like the coral coloured silk belt tied loosely around his waist or the deep purple shell that was hanging from a cord around his neck, the only jewellery that Roman could notice. 

A hat with a very dashing feather sat perched on the table. Roman hoped it belonged to Virgil and not to him, because he very much wanted to see Virgil wearing it. He very much wanted to pull it off and kiss Virgil, but to do that, Virgil would have to wear it first. 

It wasn’t until he took another step forward, and Virgil took a stumbling one backwards that he started to suspect things were not going to be as wonderful as his dream had first implied. Although honestly, the look of complete terror on Virgil’s face should have been a dead give away. Roman had been too distracted by the wings on his makeup, so sharp you could stab yourself on them. 

“Virgil?” Roman whispered softly, taking a step to the side to place the lantern down beside the narrow bunk bed against the wall. He didn’t know if it was the movement or the sound of his name that shook Virgil into action. Whatever it was, it broke the spell that had, had him cowering against the wall. He darted forward in one rapid, grace lunge, vanishing out of the door of the cabin and back out onto the deck of the ship. 

For a wasteful second, Roman simply stared after him, feeling his heart break a little at the sight of Virgil’s cape fluttering as he vanished from view. Virgil had... Virgil had run away from him. He had looked at him with terror and mistrust, and run away from him. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Virgil always knew him in his dreams. _Always_. That was probably the thing he loved most about being able to control them. At least, since they had gotten together it had. What a wonderful day that had been, when Roman had finally worked up the courage to confess his feelings. Only for Virgil to shyly admit that he had been harbouring similar emotions for years. Helplessly pinning after him, never once thinking he had a chance with the Prince. Swooning into his arms with a breathless sigh, they had both proclaimed their undying love and kissed under a full moon. 

Okay, so it hadn’t been quite that dramatic. But it had been close. 

And ever since then, if Virgil ever appeared in his dreams they were almost always together. Or at least Virgil knew him, trusted him. He had never once cowered from him and run away as though he was a demon pirate. 

It was starting to dawn on Roman that it was possible in this dream, he wasn’t the good sort of pirate. 

It was also starting to occur to him that the other pirates had clearly been leering and lusting after Virgil if the promises of ‘we wanted to play but didn’t’ were to be believed. The same pirates who had held themselves back out of respect or fear for their captain. The same pirates who had only been stopped from giving into those urges by a combination of that and a locked door.

The same pirates Virgil had just run back out into the middle of.

Roman pushed himself out of his stupor, racing out of his cabin in Virgil’s footsteps. His head whipped around, scanning the deck rapidly, trying to catch a glimpse of a cape. If any of his crew had so much as touched a hair on his head... well, right now it didn’t matter that this was a dream version of Virgil. If he was hurt in any way, someone was going to pay. 

“He went down the hold Captain!” The same filthy one eyed pirate from before, with the same leering expression as before. Roman was really starting to hate him a little. He was clearly enjoying this far too much and thought that his Captain was doing the same. No doubt he believed that Roman had let him go on purpose, in order to have a hunt or something equally ridiculous. 

His hand twitched against the hilt of his blade, trying to resist the urge to pull it free and ram it through the pirate’s grinning face. The one eyed man moved closer. He was, Roman noticed, indeed limping, his second leg making a dull thunk against the deck that could only be a wooden leg. 

“Boys are hungry but I’ll keep them back for you, have fun.” 

Okay, maybe he didn’t hate him. If he could stop the other pirates from following then that meant there were fewer pirates for him to deal with. Which meant he had more chance of calming Virgil down and convincing him to trust him. All he had to do was prove that he wasn’t like every other pirate on this ship and had no interest in having his wicked way with Virgil.

Roman could just snap them all out of existence of course. If they kept up their current behaviour, he might have no choice but to do just that. He didn’t normally like doing that. It felt too much like cheating. Warping reality for his own whims and although Roman knew technically he was a God when it came to creating and destroying, it had never felt like something he could do. Roman always felt a little... wary, when it came to altering reality after he had set the blocks in motion. You never knew what could happen. 

They wanted to kiss Virgil. And who knew what else besides. The problem was, Roman did want to kiss him. Rather badly in fact. The makeup, clothes, it was all doing funny things to Roman’s heart. Making the orgen beat at an increasingly rapid rate. He felt a whole swarm of butterflies in his stomach at the thought of this enchanting version of his love and how he would adore a chance to sweep him off his feet.

But he certainly wasn’t going to do anything without his permission, Possibly not even with it. Because at the end of the day, this wasn’t his Virgil and it felt a little odd to kiss someone who looked just his boyfriend but wasn’t. Virgil had always laughed it off in the past, teased him that he was so gay and whipped for him that even his dreams would be filled with Virgil but it still had never felt right. He might have been the boyfriend to countless dream Virgil’s, but he had never kissed them. Never done anything beyond holding hands or spinning them around a dance floor. Because anything else was wrong. 

That didn’t change the fact that he wanted to kiss this Virgil more than any previous dream incarnation. 

What on earth was he supposed to make of that? 

A problem for another moment. Right now he needed to find Virgil and get him safely back into his cabin where he knew nobody else would dare to come. Then he could worry about everything else. 

The hold was even darker than his cabin had been. Thankfully, one of the many lanterns that seemed to be dotted around the ship was swinging by the hatch, Roman scooping it up and lighting it as he went past. He gripped it firmly with his right hand, using it to guide him as he descended deeper into the hold. Each step creaked terribly as he went and any half formed ideas he might have had about being able to sneak were long since gone. 

Virgil was going to know he was coming. 

The sound of light footsteps in the depths of the hold only confirmed his worst fears. Not only had Virgil heard him coming, but he had decided to run away from him once more. Roman could feel his heart crack a little all over again at that. It didn’t really matter that this wasn’t his boyfriend, not really. His heart certainly didn’t seem to care about such a trifling detail as that. It saw Virgil’s face, his form and no doubt within that terrified treasure would lurk a reasonable facsimile of his personality. It saw all that and felt the love that Roman had for his Virgil. 

And then Virgil had run, had fled before him as though Roman was something scary. Something to be feared... almost as though he was the captain of a band of cutthroat pirates. Being a pirate suddenly felt a lot less cool.

“Virgil?” Roman called out, lifting the lantern higher and straining to see into the dark areas. He didn’t dare go far from the ladder in case Virgil managed to loop around him and escape up top. It wasn;t for himself that he was worried about in that eventuality, but for Virgil. Who knew if his crew could be compelled to behave themselves if he showed up in their mists once more.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Liar!” The voice echoed around the hold, a faint slapping sound following right after it. Roman knew that noise. It was, afterall a sadly familiar sound. Virgil accidentally smacking himself in the face in his haste to cover his mouth once he had betrayed himself in some way. It used to signal whenever he had allowed himself to be soft, to laugh or smile. He had been so afraid of showing any emotion that might not fit into his ‘persona’. So afraid of a lot of things. And many of those things had been Roman’s fault. Or, if not directly his fault, then he had contributed to them in some way. He had made Virgil feel that he couldn’t be open about who he was. That he had to act mean and scary, just to make them listen to him. Roman had been one of the key reasons why Virgil had remained as isolated for as long as he had. 

That still made Roman’s heart ache, whenever he thought of it. He had misjudged his chemical romance so badly. He had caused him so much pain and it didn’t matter that Virgil had forgiven him. No, that wasn’t true. It mattered, it mattered so much that Virgil could somehow see beyond his flaws, could understand that Roman might have meant it at the time but that he had grown. They had all grown. 

What loomed larger in his mind however, was the fact that Roman couldn’t forgive himself for what he had done. He tried his best and there were days, sometimes even a week, where he could trick himself into forgetting. It would never last though. Sooner or later something would remind him, would pull him back into reality. Virgil might have done a lot of bad things when he was trying to be the big bad Anxiety, but Roman had been just as terrible. 

And now he was scaring him again. Roman’s voice crackled a little as he called out towards the darkness. 

“Please, I promise, I mean you no harm.” 

A low, disbelieving snort was his only response, Virgil treating the words with the contempt he clearly thought they deserved. 

This wasn't working. Why would it? Virgil had no reason to trust anything a pirate said. Especially since it seemed that just before this dream began for him, the dream version of Roman had led an attack against the ship Virgil was sailing on and had left it to flounder. Not before kidnapping Virgil, dragging him from his own ship and locking him up. Of course Virgil wouldn’t believe him when he claimed to have no ill intent. Up until this moment when he had regained control of his own form, Roman had done nothing but show him that he was not to be trusted. Just saying please trust me, no matter how nicely he asked, was not going to remove the memories of recent events from Virgil’s mind. 

Roman was going to have to approach this more like a pirate captain. More like someone who was interested in gold and treasure only. One step at a time. Get them both back to the cabin, back to safety. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath as he slipped into the correct mindset. 

His whole posture changed when he opened his eyes again, relaxing into a more slouched pose, one hand tapping lightly against the hilt of his sword. Roman suddenly seemed a lot more at ease within the hold, as though he had walked through this space countless times before. His smile was a little wilder now, lacking the guilty grimace of before. 

“You’re no good to me damaged Virgil. Think about it. I don’t want to hurt you because you’ve got use to me. You keep running and hiding... well, eventually my men are going to find you. And they probably have very different ideas than I do about what they want. I’m the best of some bad choices, so come out of hiding before you lose any choice.” 

Roman felt a little sick just saying the words. Threatening his Virgil. Even in a role, how could he say such things? How could he betray his love like this? They had the desired effect though, some more hard breathing from the shadows before one finally moved and detached from the rest. Virgil stepped out into the ring of light, one hand curled around the edge of his cape, the other clasping the pendant around his neck as if they were his sources of strength. 

He still looked beyond beautiful. It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to be together, they were supposed to be connected in the dreams every time. This was Roman’s kingdom, just like the waking Imagination was and what he thought should become reality. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t banish this image and this dream from him. Virgil still looked scared, uncertain. He was trembling, his whole body shaking as he stood there, like some cornered and wounded animal. It was obvious from his stance that he expected Roman to lash out at him. To hurt him in some way. 

Now that Roman wasn’t so distracted by either the makeup or the fear, he was able to notice other little details. Like the slightly awkward way in which Virgil had stepped forward. As if he was unsteady on his feet. A wound? Had they hurt him when they kidnapped him? Roman hoped not, prayed the dream wasn’t that much of a nightmare, but what other answer could there be? 

It took everything in Roman not to drop down to his knees right there and then and beg forgiveness from this lookalike. 

“I bear you no ill will Virgil. Come on. Let’s get you back to the cabin where it's warm and light. We can talk, okay.” Roman offered a hand to him as he spoke, trying to keep his voice as calm and as gentle as he could. He dropped the facade he had used to become a pirate with ease, eagerly embracing his normal personality once more. Virgil’s expressive brown eyes were filled with distrust and fear. So much of the twin emotions that it made Roman want to march up onto the deck and start to make his crew walk the plank, to show that he... what exactly? 

If he killed his own crew, it would only reinforce that image Virgil had of him, as a cruel and uncaring pirate. Only a man like that would put to the sword men who were apparently loyal to him. Somehow, he doubted this Virgil would believe him if he tried to explain the truth. 

The caped clad man hesitated a moment longer before slowly reaching out. He moved as though Roman was a wild dog, capable of biting his arm off at the slightest provocation. Gingerly, Virgil accepted the offered hand, silently letting Roman lead him back up the creaky steps and out onto the top deck.

And into a sea of noise, the pirates all cheering and leering at the sight of the two of them.


	4. Blurred Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve seen the start of Patton’s world, and Roman’s. Which means it is time to see what Logan is up to. Completely different world and situation, Logan isn’t going to enjoy this. Or Virgil. Which means, I hope that you all will. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, they really mean everything and keep me going, knowing that people are still interested in this. Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Tumblr gonna tumblr. Come say hi @theeternalspace

** **

### Blurred Vision

** **

Pale sunlight filtered through the solitary window, high up in the wall. It was far too high for Logan to consider climbing up to it, not to mention too narrow for him to be able to do something even if he got up there. Logan didn’t know how long he had been lying on the cold floor and staring up at the light before the reality of the moment crashed down on him. Only that he had been staring for a very long time without thinking. This wasn’t where he had gone to sleep.

In fact, now that Logan pushed aside the cobwebs in his mind, he realised he hadn’t gone to sleep at all. The last thing he remembered was trying to convince Patton not to open a door without checking where it led and then... and then what? 

Falling. Endless falling, screams and shouts, a blur of noise and colour until he was suddenly on his back, staring up at a dark ceiling and the single window. Which, now that he took a few seconds to stare at, he realised had thick, black bars across it, making the gaps even smaller than Logan had originally assumed. Or rather, he thought they were bars. It was a little hard to make them out from this distance. 

He blinked a couple of times, wondering why the hazy world hadn’t sharpened as it was supposed to. When he was drifting, he could understand the glow, but he was back now, he was focused now. Only his vision... wasn’t. Slowly, he sat up, the world spinning a little, to go with the blurred vision. The movement however, passed. The blurring didn’t.

Logan lifted a hand to his head, gingerly tracing around his skull. There didn’t appear to be any noticeable bumps, his fingers didn’t come away wet and sticky with blood. Although he felt a little tender when he touched the back of his head it wasn’t painful, just uncomfortable which all implied he didn’t have a concussion. His head was okay and that was the important thing. 

Fingers found the arm of his glasses, Logan pulling them off to examine them. Significantly, his vision didn’t get any worse without them on. 

His glasses had gotten broken in the fall. Fantastic. 

So now he had to work out where he was, what was going on, where everyone else was and how to solve all of Thomas’ latest problems... while being half blind because one of the lenses was knocked out. That or become a pirate. No doubt Roman would have enjoyed that thought and for a moment Logan found himself almost missing the dramatic antics of the creative side. He might be loud and annoying at times, but Logan knew his heart was figuratively as well as literally in the right place. Roman would have come up with five different plans by now.

Four of them would have been utterly worthless and the last not much better, but Logan would have been able to improve it and then together they would have been able to concoct a working plan to solve the problem of the moment. 

Instead he was on his own and half blind. 

Small steps. One foot in front of the other. First things first, working out where he was. Until he knew that, it was pointless imagining what he could be doing with the aid of the other sides. Not that he needed their aid, he could work this out on his own. They would simply speed up the matter, and considering how cold and uncomfortable this floor he was sitting on was, Logan was all for speeding it up as much as he could.

Fingers traced along the floor, learning it by touch as he squinted rather uselessly at the world around him. He appeared to be sitting on large stone slabs which fit the ascetic of the room from what he could tell. It was small and dimly lit. Even with perfect glasses on, Logan doubted he would have been able to pick up on much more than that.

The walls were made up of equally large and barren blocks of stone, Logan feeling along them rather helplessly for something to hold onto and pull himself up. The walls were smooth though, towering high above him and offering no hint as to anything beyond them. Three of the walls were like that at least. 

One whole side was nothing but bars, crisscrossing themselves. There was just enough space between them to stick an arm out up to your elbow but not much more. Not that such a thing helped Logan when he had nothing to hold, the room devoid of anything. There wasn’t even a loose piece of dirt lying around. He could hold his broken glasses in his hand and wave them in the air through the gap but that wasn’t exactly going to get him through the bars. 

Three stone walls and one made of bars with a door in the centre. He knew that configuration. For some inane reason, Thomas’ logic was trapped inside a cell. Imprisoned in a cage, the indignity of it all. The door to the cell was locked, a large, empty keyhole taunting him. Even with his poor eyesight, he could tell that much. Not that an empty space was capable of doing that. Or expressing any emotion at all, in that it was an inanimate object. That was one of the reasons why Logan liked non sentient items. They were a lot easier to handle. 

Clearly - and worryingly - he had been spending too much time with Roman recently, if his mind went to that answer. Not that it was an answer at all, it didn’t tell him anything he needed to know. 

He was somewhere within the Imagination or the subconscious but that didn’t help. The human mind was a wonderful thing, it held so many secrets, ones that you could spend a whole lifetime reachearing and still only scratch the surface of what the mind had to offer. Which normally was a fascinating and wonderful thought. There were still new things to discover, to learn if only he could convince Thomas to refocus his energies back onto the world of science. Right now, however, it only reinforced the lack of immediate knowledge he had about his current situation. 

Within the mind. Check. Any actual details? No. 

Beyond that basic idea, Logan knew he was in some sort of mental cell, blank stone walls stretching out in front of him. So he was somewhere in Thomas’ mind, in a fairly drab and unimaginative cell in a medieval castle. It was the sort of thing that he would expect to find under Roman’s control, except that he would have made the place far more elaborate. There would have been something to stare at on the walls, even down in the dungeons because that was just the sort of person Roman was. 

Torches flickered at set intervals down the corridor in front of him, vanishing around corners in both direction but again, that didn’t give Logan anything to work with. 

“No,” Logan stated flatly. He crossed his arms, staring at the bars with undisguised disgust. “I refuse.”

There was no way he was going to partake in any ridiculous fantasy sequence. This could hardly be a dream of his own - they didn’t involve such trifles like castles or adventure. They were comforting, logical things that he understood and they certainly didn’t take his glasses from him. If this wasn’t a dream of his own or a world of his own then it meant one of the Creativities was in charge.

And Logan refused to play along with any game that they had planned. 

He glared harder at the bars, his gaze slightly unfocused by the lack of glasses. This was extremely frustrating and annoying. He didn’t have time for this sort of foolishness. He didn’t want to just stand here waiting and yet there didn’t seem much else he could do. 

Silence and his own annoyance were the only things keeping him company. 

“I refuse to take part in this,” Logan repeated. He did so hate repeating himself but it was something that he had sadly gotten rather used to over the years. As much as he... ackowendlged the value that each side brought to Thomas and their overall wellbeing, they were not the well behaved sides of his choice. He often had to repeat himself multiple times merely to be heard, let alone listened to and his advice followed. Why they resisted was a mistroy he still didn’t understand. 

Time and time again, he had proven that the correct course of action was the one that he recommended and yet time after time, they would fight him till the bitter end in accepting that. Just like now. Logan wasn’t the fanciful side... but if he were, he would say that someone was lurking just out of sight, a presence hovering on the edge of his consciousness, waiting for him to give in. 

“Fine,” he snapped after a couple more moments and if Logan had to admit to a flaw, he would say it was his impatience. He didn’t like wasting time and this was most differently, that. Going along with it, was also a waste of time, but hopefully a faster one. “Let’s get this over with.” 

As if on cue, there was the sound of footsteps, the noise offered him a brief moment of hope. The feeling was quickly doused by the sight of a mess of black and green clothing that bounced from around the corridor. An all too familiar mess of black and green, the ornately dressed figure half pausing in front of the bars. He seemed incapable of standing completely still, twitching and bouncing on the spot, his hands lifting and dancing around in the air as though they had minds of their own. Which was more than Logan could say for the person they were attached to. 

“Helloooooo Logan, I am delighted to have you as my guest!”

“Ah. The Duke. I should have known that you would be involved. Where there is one of you, there is normally the rest.” Logan was too tired for this. He had hoped it would be Roman so they could end this and focus on what actually mattered. He needed to get moving and find the others. Were they trapped in cells too? If Roman was nearby, Logan was confident he would have heard him by this point, especially with his brother in the picture. So where, by Archimedes, were they?

“Oh you’re too kind Logan, too kind. Well, it was a good game wasn’t it. But here I am with the keys to the cell door and there you are... awaiting your date with the executioner,” Remus purred, fingers coiling around one of the bars as he leaned closer. Even without his glasses, Logan could see the huge grin that stretched from ear to ear. He was clearly enjoying himself. It went without saying that Logan was not.

“That is what happens when you try and accuse the Duke of treason without any proof my dearest friend,” Remus added, fingers lightly stroking the bars now, grin as broad and joyous as before. Logan blinked a couple of times, staring at him as though the words might magically start to make sense. They didn’t. 

This was stupid. Logan had little time for professional make believe at the best of times. He had even less patience with the frequent excursions that Roman tried to insist that they all take part in. As for Remus and his band of... imagination, well beyond accepting that it existed and trying to ride it out, Logan had absolutely no energy or desire to engage with it at all.

Somewhere, there was Virgil and the rest. Hopefully together but he had nothing to base that theory on. Logan needed to get out of here and back into an area of the mind that he better understood. Not be forced to endure some playacting. That was not his air quotes, thing. 

“Treason? Executioner? Remus, I don’t have time to indulge in your little make believe sessions. Would you kindly let me out so that I can get on with my day.” 

“Let you out?” Remus repeated, staring at him for a moment. He froze, not even his hands moving as he considered the words before bursting out into great bursts of laughter, his whole body bent double. “Oh Logan, you are hilarious, I had no idea you were such a comedian!”

“I fail to see the joke,” Logan replied stiffly. 

“That’s because you don’t have a mirror in there buddy. Not to mention your glasses being damaged when you tried to resist arrest. I mean honestly Logan, fighting the Royal Guard? I would have thought such actions beneath your dignity.” 

Nothing Remus was saying was making sense. To be fair, that was usually the case. Remus was unpredictable in a way that Logan could struggle with. It was easy to be strong when the others were there and it was up to Logan to guide them through the rapids that were the images that Remus was throwing up in front of them all. This time however, not even Logan had anything he could use to navigate them, as if he had somehow missed the first hour of conversation.

The Duke was acting as though Logan had done some great wrong to him in the past, as if everything he was saying was the truth. What on earth was happening here? 

Remus was still talking. Although talking was perhaps too kind a term for it. Gushing seemed more appropriate. He was obviously delighted with the situation and having a lot of fun. If there was one thing that Logan was sure of, it was when Remus was having fun, whoever else was involved probably wasn’t. 

“But I don’t want you to go to your death blind. Where would be the fun in that? Catch Lolo!” A thin object flew through the air, Logan instinctively reaching out to fumble for it, fingers closing around nothing. It carried on flying to land on the stones behind him, the object making a dull smacking sound as it connected against the ground. Remus gave a giggle that didn’t reassure Logan in the slightest. 

“Oops! Hope they didn’t break, I couldn't find any other pairs. Anyway, toodles darling, I need to go and check on the arrangements. We have to build a whole new scaffold and everything for you. I’m thinking right in the courtyard. I’ve told the builder to go big or go on it too. Let’s break the record for height, you and I. Oh it’s going to be so much fun!” 

Remus danced out of his line of sight as rapidly as he had first appeared, leaving Logan even more confused and lost than before. 

First things first. He couldn’t get ahead of himself. That was how you got lost and tripped up. He needed his glasses before he could do anything else, Logan stiffly turning and crossing over to the small, blurry object on the ground. It was a slight surprise to realise that Remus had been telling the truth about them at least, that these were his own glasses and thankfully, thy weren’t even broken, Logan pocketing his original pair and placing the new set on his face instead. 

The world snapped back into satisfying focus. Not that it helped him much in the short term. He was indeed in a cell without any tools or other people around and no obvious means of escape. A cell where he had been placed after apparently trying to betray Remus. Logan knew that wasn’t the case, he knew who he was - the logical representation of logic, knowledge and deeper critical thinking within the mind of Thomas. He wasn’t a person in his own right and he certainly wasn’t a person living in a period of history where you had castles and axe-men waiting to chop off people’s heads. 

He lifted a hand idly to his neck, trying to repress the shiver that ran through him at that thought. All ways to die were unpleasant, but having your head removed seemed particularly so. Touching his neck brought a new thought to mind. He was still wearing his top and tie. Surely those would have raised eyebrows if this world was meant to be set in the past, but Remus hadn’t commented on it. He needed more data, he needed hard evidence if he was going to be able to draw any conclusions. 

Logan just needed to think. Focus on what he knew, what he could gather and from there he would be able to make a plan. Build up from what little he had. Okay. So what did he know for sure?

This room appeared real. Or as real as rooms within the Imagination could be and from personal experience, Logan knew they could be as solid as anything within Thomas’ world. Remus seemed insistent on the idea that Logan had tried to overthrow him, but what did that mean exactly? Overthrow him... where? In this castle? Within the scope of whatever story line was being played out? Or did he mean the latest video?

After all, Logan had been instrumental in showing Thomas that Remus was not an entity to be feared, but he wouldn’t have gone so far as to say that he had committed treason by such a thing. Remus had never been in control to start with and you needed to be ruling in order to be overthrown.

Not to mention, this was a little out of character for Remus. Tossing a sharp object at someone because they had gotten in his way, sure. Immediately attacking someone, also likely. Remus was the kind of side that would push you down the stairs in his own rush to get down them and then never think about his actions again. Not lock you up and spend time building stairs to push you down. Not when he had so many other ideas and plans to enjoy.

None of the attacks in the video had affected him for longer than a few moments, so perhaps he would also be safe here? Only... it felt different here somehow. This wasn’t Remus trying to make Thomas listen to him, this wasn’t Remus shouting to be heard. Nobody else was here, nobody was a captive audience. This was a whole new world within the Imagination with its own rules. There was the possibility that it would have no real world impact, that he could - as unpleasant sounding as it was - simply reattach his own head. Then again. There was the chance that he would not be able to.

Logan wasn’t sure exactly what would happen if you died within the mind, but although he considered himself a scientist, he was in no hurry to find out the results of that particular experiment. Especially with Remus behind the controls. 

The sound of footsteps had him turning on his heel to look back towards the bars and he hadn’t expected anyone to return so quickly. The sunlight coming through the window had shifted dramatically between blinks, pale yellow light becoming a richer orange that would normally signify a setting sun. How could it be setting already? If there was one thing that Logan disliked above all over things within the Imagination, it was the way in which it followed no consistent rule.

Two... no, three sets this time. The light, prancing footfalls from before that had to belong to Remus. A slow steady tread of someone following and then a shuffling, almost unwilling step beside it. 

Was it this executioner Remus had spoken of?

Try as he might, Logan couldn’t help but feel a sudden intake of panic at the idea that they might come for him before he had a plan, before he was ready. Logan didn’t even have any thoughts as how to delay this, only that he needed more time.

“Oh Logan, I brought you a friend...” Remus’ voice echoed down the corridor, preceding him by a few seconds. The duke looked as demented as before, still bouncing on his heels as he came to stand in front of the bars, clearly enjoying himself. This was probably his idea of a dream afternoon, a captive audience of one, that you could threaten and eventually kill. Not that Logan was going to give him the opportunity to kill him, not if he could do anything about it.

This second visit gave Logan the chance to stare at him and take in the details that he hadn’t bothered to examine before. This was Remus but not exactly as he knew him. He was very close indeed, his outfit was black with green accents, his sash was still bright green. He still had the demented grin, the streak of white in his fringe. It was the little, tiny things that had changed. The spots on his tunic were pearls instead of human teeth. That should have reassured Logan, told him that this Remus wasn’t quite as mad, but it made him feel almost the opposite. Remus had always been unnervingly proud of the teeth, he had always claimed it finished his outfit perfectly. They had been about the only thing to survive every outfit change Remus had gone through during the years so to see him without them now only reinforced the theory that this wasn’t the Remus that Logan knew.

And if he wasn’t that, they Logan had even less chance of understanding and combating his behaviour. 

Remus lifted a hand to wave grandly behind him, gesturing to the two people that were only now just moving out of the shadows from around the corner and into the light of the nearest torch. 

“Turns out one of my kitchen staff was going to try and poison me. So I thought I’d save time by skipping the trial and just storing him here with you. The executioner is going to have a treat, two for the price of one.” Remus gave a sharp bark of laughter after his words, the sound reminding Logan of hyenas howling. He wasn’t focused on Remus though, not any more. His whole attention was narrowed to the kitchen staff member that was half hanging off the arm of the guard that had followed Remus - the steady tread and the unwilling footsteps of before.

Virgil.

There was no mistaking the identity of the male who shivered against the grip of the tall, armoured man holding him. His outfit was almost identical to the one he wore normally, bar a black apron tied around his waist, the edges of it dark purple. Otherwise the hoodie, hair and makeup was the same. Even with that one single little nod towards his false job within this ridiculous fantasy, he looked terribly out of place. As with Logan, his clothing was modern. Neither the guard or Remus seemed to notice the contrast.

With that distraction, it took Logan longer than he was proud to admit to realise that Virgil hadn’t so much as lifted his head to look at him. What had Remus done to him? Logan had no idea how long he had been unconscious - and anyway, if this was part of Remus’ infernal realm then no doubt it ignored the laws of time.

With a nod from Remus, the two stepped forward, the guard unlocking the door and flinging Virgil into the cell with Logan. 

Finally, something was looking up. 

He had an ally at last and Logan had known that Remus would make a mistake sooner or later. True, he hadn’t expected the mistake to be as large as letting two of them in the same room to plot, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. This was an excellent improvement, not only for his own immediate prospects but also because it meant he could return Virgil to the mindscape proper and thus set Patton’s mind at ease. As soon as he located Patton of course.

However, if he had Virgil as well, did that mean that Deceit was here? That perhaps so too were Roman and Patton? This surely seemed to imply that the two Dark sides were working together but then if they were working together, then this was the Remus he knew and the other evidence pointed against that. 

He was getting ahead of himself once more, Logan needed to take a deep breath and relax. Information gathering. He was still on the information gathering stage and thankfully he now had a brand new source of information. Even if all Virgil had seen was his trip from the kitchen to the dungeons, that at least told him the route back to the kitchen and those rooms by the nature of their use, were almost always on the ground floor, near an exit to the outside world. Get to the kitchen, and they would be close to freedom.

The purple haired side sunk to the knees, his head resting against his legs. He seemed intent on trying to pull himself into as small a ball as possible, apparently mistaking size for visibility. Perhaps that worked when people were not already aware of your presence but it seemed a wholly futile course of action when everyone was already looking at you. Not that Virgil seemed to care. 

“Have fun you two. Don’t do anything I would do. And if you want to get out of there, well, I am open to the idea...” Remus trailed off, a dangerous grin on his face as the cell door was closed and locked securely once more. Logan could do nothing but watch as the key was tucked down Remus’ trousers with an over the top wink. It made the logical side shudder a little and he was not going anywhere _near_ those black, skinny pants. Not even if the choice was that or to get his head chopped off.

Some prices just weren’t worth paying. 

That was differently one of them, made even more certain by the smirk on Remus’ face. He knew exactly what he was doing and Logan made no secret of his feelings in turn. He allowed a disgusted sniff to sound in the cell before turning his back on the two in order to examine Virgil instead. He refused to talk to Remus any longer, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Indeed, he needed him to leave so that he could talk to Virgil instead and the two of them could start to make plans to get out of this cold and damp cell.

“Fine,” Remus huffed after a whole three seconds had passed, his patience apparently exhausted. At least that was the same, and something useful to keep in mind. Remus still had the concentration span of a gnat. “Be like that Logan. Come on Tall and sexy, I want you to debrief me on everything that has been going on.” 

Behind Logan’s back, he could hear the clink of armour as the guard started to leave, Remus’ lighter tread a few seconds later. He didn’t look back - never check to see if he is actually gone - and merely waited. 

And waited.

And waited some more. The sounds of the two on the other side of the cell had long since faded into nothing and still Virgil hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor. He still hadn’t so much as looked at Logan, let alone spoken to him. Inexplicably, Logan couldn’t help but feel a small little wave of hurt at that behaviour and surely Virgil wasn’t upset at him? As far as he knew, he had done nothing to warrant such a reaction. 

Yes, he had said that Thomas’ lack of sleep was Virgil’s fault, but that hadn’t been to be cruel. He had simply been pointing out the obvious truth, and he had tried to frame it as softly as possible. Not only that, but he had then gone to great lengths to show how both Virgil and Patton could improve their behaviour. He hadn’t agreed with Remus’ gleeful claim that Anxiety could never escape being the bad guy because he quite simply did not believe that to be true. Virgil was so much more than that, he wanted to be more, he worked to improve himself. 

They should all really take a leaf out of the book Virgil used to guide his actions. All of them could benefit from spending a little time trying to improve themselves. Perhaps not Log- yes. Even Logan had things to learn. Less than the rest, but that didn’t excuse him from the conversation completely. 

Virgil still hadn’t said anything, and Logan was starting to become concerned. Had he hit his head? Or perhaps Remus had done something to him before throwing him in here. That was more typical of the Duke, but once again, Logan was hampered by his lack of ready knowledge. He crouched in front of him, quickly scanning him for any sign of trauma. It was hard when there was a lot of Virgil that he couldn’t see, his face hidden by his knees, large portions of the rest of his body was covered up by hoodie or jeans, but there was no obvious sign of injury. He couldn’t see any telltale blood or pick up the tangy, coppery scent in the air. 

“Virgil, I am glad to see you are well. I do not know what inane scenario Remus has in mind, but we have to get out of here. I am not well versed in either the rules of the Imagination or role play of this nature. I do... not know enough.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he had to try and be honest in the hope that it would encourage Virgil to do the same. 

Virgil shuddered a fraction, but still didn’t look up. It was starting to become a little disconcerting, in all honesty. He had never known the anxious side to withdraw into himself in such a fashion. He was a creature of movement, he was the sort who would say or do almost anything rather than sit still. Until right now, Logan hadn’t even known it was possible for Virgil to be this still. Even at his most relaxed when he would slump into a painful looking pose on the couch, Virgil would be doing some kind of movement. Even if it was just playing with the zips on his sleeves. 

“Virgil?” Logan asked, hand reaching out towards him. _That_ got a reaction, albeit not the one that Logan had hoped for as Virgil almost jumped out of his skin at the contact. He scooted backwards a few feet before resuming his previous pose, and returning to his attempt at becoming a living statue. For a moment at least. 

“Don’t talk to me,” Virgil finally hissed, his hands lifting to clamp against his head, pressing against his ears as though he could somehow block out the sound of Logan’s voice. “He’s going to kill me already but if you don’t talk to me, maybe he’ll make it quick.” 

Logan frowned. 

“This is no time for games Virgil, I admire your commitment to the storyline that Remus had apparently created but this is hardly the time.” 

His words only made Virgil try and press himself further into his knees. What was going on here? Remus acting as if this was all a story Logan could sort of understand. He didn’t approve of it one bit, but he could understand it. Remus had very little impulse control and if the desire came to him to play a game or follow a storyline, then he would do it, and try and force everyone else to play along. 

Virgil though? Why would Virgil go along with this? He had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Remus, and that had to include any fantasy play acting. If Virgil wanted to take part in any ridiculous behaviour like this, all he had to do was ask his boyfriend. Roman would have been doubly delighted at the prospect, both at simply being able to be a Prince here as well, and to help Virgil in any way he could. Roman was so very soft for the anxious side. Which, of course made perfect sense. Logan had limited understanding of romantic inclinations, but he was still part of Thomas and so understood some. Enough to know that you didn’t date someone unless you cared for them like that. 

There was slim to no chance therefore that Virgil would select Remus over Roman. 

Unless this wasn’t actually Virgil of course but instead one of the figments that roamed the mind, ready to be fashioned into whatever Creativity needed at the moment. It wouldn’t be the first time that one of their faces had been used, although Logan did not approve of the practice. It felt... wrong, in a way that he annoyingly, couldn’t quite put into words. Seeing another version of himself was always an exercise in discomfort. It annoyed him that he could never quite explain to his satisfaction why it felt unpleasant, and the fact that it was a feeling at all, only added to his sense of frustration. 

So perhaps this Virgil was one of those. Just another layer of this strange game that Remus was insistent on playing. Then again, it was possible, he supposed, for Virgil to believe this was real. If he had been feeling weak and confused, then it was perfectly possible for him to believe the words whispered into his ear and become the character he was told. He would remain that way until something was done to break the spell. 

Only Creativity had the power to press such an illusion into someone's mind. In theory. Roman had believed that he would be able to do it, but he had never once really seriously considered doing it. The only reason Logan knew of it at all was because Roman had once suggested it as a means of dealing with Anxiety, back when they had all viewed Virgil as something to be overcome and defeated. It was shameful to remember those times and Logan should have known better. He knew that Anxiety wasn’t purely a negative force, he knew that the darker side had good points and yet he had allowed himself to get swallowed up the general mood. 

At least Roman had seemed to regret his suggestion as soon as he had said the words, shaking his head and rapidly changing the subject. Logan had never followed through on any questions because it hadn’t been a subject that appealed to him in the slightest. 

Logan rolled back on his hunches and considered the person in front of him clinically, trying to form conclusions as Sherlock would have done.


	5. Eye for an Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Time to finally catch up on Patton and his adventures. Thank you as ever for all the comments you leave, it keeps me going and brings a smile to my face like you wouldn’t believe. I hope you like this chapter, if you do, feel free to leave a comment or kudos so I know I’m doing something right.
> 
> Tumblr gonna tumblr. Come say hi @theeternalspace

** **

### Eye for an Eye

** **

If nothing else, hopefully Patton could use this time to work some things out. Now that he was safe and he knew he would see Virgil again very soon, he could use this time to really think about this. He needed to think about the words and the people and the situation. He needed to think about everything, all at once. Just thinking about having to think about it, made his head hurt a little.

It wasn’t as though Patton was stupid. He knew he wasn’t stupid, he knew he jsut thought of things in a different way to Logan or any of the others. They all approached a problem in their own unique way just as they all saw things in their own way. 

Logan saw the facts, the figures. The painted scenery and stage directions behind any problem or act. Roman saw the magic, the solutions so outside of the box, that nobody else would even begin to think of them. Virgil saw the problems. He saw the figures on a chessboard and all the moves they might make. It was easy for him to be overwhelmed by those possibilities, just as it was easy for Logan to refuse to accept any view that didn’t match his own or Roman to think of an idea that was just a fraction too out of the box to work.

Patton knew his own way of thinking was flawed too. He saw with his heart, he trusted to the good in people even if they might not deserve it. And then, if they did betray that trust in a way that hurt his heart, it was harder for him to trust them again. It was harder for him to give them a second chance or to let them give their own views on things. Simply because if their views weren’t good, then they weren’t worth the time. 

Expect he meant good in his own sense. In a moral sense and not necessarily in the way that might best help with the problem at hand. If he was honest with himself - and Patton did try to be - it was next to impossible for him to stop that knee jerk reaction to want to oppose someone like that after they had hurt his heart in the past. 

They didn’t always have bad points and Patton needed to learn that. Even if it meant having to learn a whole new method of thinking. Still, he did wish one or both of them were with him right now. That they could put their heads together and try and come up with some answers to what was happening. 

Was this all Deceit’s doing? 

His heart told him yes, it pointed to the fact that the last time he had seen his Virgil, he had been unconscious in the arms of the lying side. His heart said that had to mean that Deceit had been the one to make him unconscious and thus he was the bad guy here, no further questions your honour. 

But Patton had just been thinking and accepting that his views on people like Deceit were not always completely right. At the very least, they deserve the same second chance that he offered everyone else. The second chance that he had given Virgil without a moment's hesitation. It had been more than two chances as well. If he could do that for Virgil, why was he being so stern in his thinking when it came to Deceit? Just because he had different views? They all had different views. 

His views were on morals though. And Patton had to believe that his own viewpoint was correct. For his own sake and for Thomas’ sake, he had to believe that he was doing the right thing. Otherwise, what did that say about their host and everything they had done up to this point?

Viewpoint or not, Patton couldn’t shake the feeling that things were not as clear cut as he would have liked to believe when it came to Deceit and the recent events in Virgil’s room. Thomas was an actor, which meant that Patton understood and appreciated just as much as anyone else, that a scene viewed from one angle could mean something very different from another. 

Deceit looked as though he had been playing the role assigned to him but what if he wasn’t? What if that hadn’t been malice guiding his actions but some other emotions instead? 

And Deceit’s panicked expression could have just as easily been a result of Patton bursting in with an accusatory look on his face than as a result of being caught in the act of hurting Virgil. It could even have been a result of Virgil becoming unconscious and falling into his arms. Virgil had been working a lot and honestly, some part of Patton had expected him to pass out from exhaustion at some point. It wouldn’t have been the first time that the anxious side had pushed himself beyond his limits.

But why was Deceit there in that case? Why would Virgil have let him in his room? It had been his door they had all fallen through, so really this should be his realm. What did Deceit want out of all of this? 

Right now it seemed pointless thinking about Deceit and his motives. That was hard enough to uncover at the best of times. He didn’t appear to be in this world right now and Patton was going to take that for the small mercy it was in the hope that things might be less confusing because of it. 

So what did he know for sure. He knew Virgil was here but not himself. But still himself? He was still Virgil, he was still looking after these people. Still the person at his core that he knew. Just... angrier. More open about his rage, his emotions seemed to be bubbling away right under the surface, ready to erupt at a moments notice. He didn’t seem to have the same restraint that the Virgil Patton knew did.

The world was populated by characters Thomas had created, plucked from the depths of his mind in order to create some semblance of a world, complete with histories and motivations. 

None of that told Patton anything that he actually needed to know. None of that explained where he was or how he was going to get home. And how he was going to make things better for Virgil in the meantime. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to do whatever he could in order to make things better for him before he found his way back. This Virgil was still his friend and it hurt to think of him suffering in any way.

Maybe that was an answer in its own right. Maybe he didn't need to know the facts or the details. He didn’t need to know everything, all he needed to know was what his heart felt and his heart told him that this was Virgil. And that he should do everything he could to help. 

No, Patton wasn’t really sure what this was, not beyond real. 

Not real as in real as they were real or real as in Thomas was real, and now he was just confusing himself, Patton lifting a hand to his forehead. This was why he hadn’t wanted to think too deeply about it. Some part of Patton understood on a purely instinctual level and that was what he should have just gone with. He didn’t need to think himself in circles to know that it was real in the _moment_. Wherever they were and whatever was going on, this was actually happening as far as the others were concerned.

It was like being in a historical reenactment only nobody else knew it was a reenactment. At any time it might be stopped and then hopefully they would snap out of the mindset they were stuck in. Would confronting Virgil about the truth help? Probably not. Or would it? Oh, choices. Choices could be the worst sometimes. 

Patton wished one of the others was here. They would at least have an opinion on what he should do. They would try and argue their point and even if he didn’t agree with it, at least he would have something to work off. Sometimes, knowing what he didn’t want to happen was as good as knowing what he did. Even a negative had uses. 

Right now, all Patton still had to go on was his own feelings and right now, he felt as though he had to follow the story, just as he had already thought. He had to help Virgil and get him to trust him if nothing else. Okay. That was progress. That was something. Another spoonful of soup was swallowed, Patton still frowning and thinking, lost in his own world, busy with various plans and ideas. They would probably come to nothing but it felt good to be thinking about it at least. 

“Here.” Anton’s voice broke into his thoughts. Patton lifted his head, blinking owlishly as he stared at the other man. There was a leather jacket in his hands, Anton offering it to him without another word. Eagerly, Patton took it and after undoing the cargidon around his shoulders, slipped it on its place. It fit him perfectly which would have been a weird coincidence if they weren’t all technically the same person. 

It felt a little weird to be actually wearing something over his shirt but a leather jacket wasn’t really something he could tie around his shoulders like a cape. And every side of Thomas he had seen in one, looked really cool. Did this make Patton cool? Dad cool at least? 

Oh. 

Did this make him part of the gang now? Patton couldn’t help but grin and clap his hands together at that thought, a rush of giddy glee burning through him. Anon looked a little physically pained by the action, as though he was already regretting giving him it. Not that Patton cared, the moral side wrapping his arms around himself in order to give himself a nice big hug. It felt a little different than normal, cooler because of the leather, but it was still lovely. He only hoped he could give Virgil one soon. 

“Come on,” Anton ordered gruffly. “Let’s go see the Boss, you look more presentable at least. No longer an eyesore.”

Virgil was still in the same room that Patton had left him in. He was standing with his back to them, his hands on his hips as he stared down at some papers on the table. Virgil appeared lost in thought, completely unaware of them approaching. 

Quietly, Anton slipped away, leaving the two of them alone. Now that he was back with Virgil, Patton suddenly found himself at a loss of what to say. Which was ridiculous, he always had something to say and he always had been able to talk to him. Okay, maybe right at the start when he had found him a little bit scary, but that had lasted barely an episode. By the end of one proper conversation in front of the cameras, Patton had been able to see through the mask Anxiety had been wearing. The other two might not believe him when he said there was a mask, but he had known it in his heart. And he had been right. 

There had been the years before the videos. Patton had always been a tad nervous around him during the teenage years - Anxiety’s Zenith, Roman had called it. The Dark Years. Roman probably wouldn’t use those words to describe those years now of course. They had been tense, terrible, but as Patton ruefully admittedly, they hadn’t all been down to Virgil’s influence. All of them had a part to play in the teenage years being terrible ones. 

Not to mention, Roman and Virgil were in love now and probably wouldn’t like to be reminded of a time when things were less than perfect between them. Or maybe they would. They seemed to enjoy bickering still, but that was friendly arguing and lacked the angry heat of before. 

Patton wondered if there was a Roman in this world. He couldn’t decide if he liked the idea of their being one or not. Virgil wouldn’t be alone if there was - and if he was dating him - but at the same time was that like cheating? Even if neither were real and it was with each other? 

The headache was back in force, Patton closing his eyes tightly against the pain as he tried to think of less brain twisty subjects. Puppies, kitties, the smile on each of their faces whenever he baked their favorite treat. Making Thomas happy. That was at once both the easiest and hardest thing in the world to do. 

Finally, Virgil tilted his head a little, acknowledging Patton’s presence. A hint of a crooked smile quirked on his lips as he examined him, taking in the leather coat, clearly pleased with it. Was it too much to hope that he was pleased at the idea of Patton being part of his gang? Patton beamed back. He had _known_ he had looked cool in this new outfit. 

And being part of a gang that was run by Virgil, completely with his softness masked by strength was no bad thing to be. 

“Looking good,” Virgil remarked. “Less like a dad, more like someone you should leave alone. Should hopefully make you less of an all round general target out here. Of course, it does make you a target against the Duke and his men because he will think you’re one of us but we will look after you.”

“The Duke?” Patton swallowed heavily as he asked the question and he almost didn’t want to know the answer but it was too late. He had said the question now. Virgil sighed heavily, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunching up almost to his ears. Despite the hairdo and the outfit, he looked so much like the Virgil that Patton knew in that moment that he almost wanted to cry. Or hug him. Either reaction would probably be a bad thing and with great difficulty he pushed them back down in order to focus on what Virgil was saying.

“Remus. Goes by the name of Duke, because he has pretensions to running the place. Not while I’m around. Not while I have a single breath in my body. I’ll fight him till he leaves me and my own alone.” 

There was a determination to Virgil’s words that almost scared Patton in a way. It was fierce, like the kind of fire that would burn itself to ashes rather than give way. Destructive in its own right and Patton didn’t like to hear him talk in such a pig headed, mulish way. There was always some other way than violence. That solved nothing. And was normally associated with scary places or people. The sort of scary that Virgil used to like to pretend he was. The sort of scary that Virgil had never actually wanted to be. Patton couldn’t believe that he would want that sort of thing here. 

Virgil was still talking. 

“Worst thing is, he used to be one of mine. Used to be my friend. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was always a little strange but he was harmless. Or so I thought. And then a year or so ago...” Virgil lifted his hands, fingers spreading out to mime a sort of explosion and what, Remus had split into several parts? He wouldn’t put that past Remus. Patton stared at him in puzzlement.

“A year ago he turned into fingers?”

“What? No! A year ago he suddenly turned on me, stole most of our money and supplies before taking off. Next thing I know, he has formed a rival biker gang called the Double D’s and he is roaming about apparently with the sole intent of driving me insane. Or out of the city. But like I said Patton, I’m not moving. This is a fight to the death.” 

Patton drew in a sharp, pained breath at that. It was only an expression. Surely, it was only an expression. Except the look on Virgil’s face told him that he was as deadly seriously about this than he was about anything else he had said. He was fully prepared to go down fighting, even if that cost him his - no Patton couldn’t even bare to think about it. 

“Fighting isn’t the answer Virgil, it can’t be.”

“Only answer I’ve ever known Patton,” Virgil snapped back. “We fight or we get overrun and I’m not letting that happen. An eye for an eye leaves everyone fairly treated and equal.”

Patton was... pretty sure that wasn’t actually the saying. Not that he could remember the proper saying right now, but he was sure it was about how revenge was pointless, not that you should give somewhat what they gave to you. 

It was clear that he wasn’t going to budge on this point. As far as Virgil seemed to think, the only answer was to fight against the rising tide, till his very last breath. As much as he hated it, in a way, Patton had to suppose that it made sense. Virgil was the embodiment of the flight and fight response after all. It was a little odd that he seemed completely stuck in the fight mode, but that was just the way it was sometimes. It still felt wrong to fight like this. Fighting clearly wasn’t working. It was just extending the struggle and the pain.

Patton needed to try a different approach. Or something along those lines. Roman would have already thought up five different possible plans of attack by this point. Unless he had been distracted by the fact that his brother was apparently the villain of the piece and had instead decided to devote all his energy into sulking. Roman always hated to share. Mostly it was the limelight he wanted to keep all to himself, but lately it had also been Virgil’s attention. He would have hated the idea that Virgil was more focused on Remus than himself. It wouldn’t even have mattered that it was the bad type of attention, it was still time that Virgil could have spent flirting or kissing him. 

He really missed his dramatic son right about now. Patton would have taken those dramatics over being so lost and confused any day of the week. 

“You’re very brave Virgil,” Patton offered at last, giving him a soft smile. Virgil shook his head, angling his head a little to gaze out of the part of the window that still had glass in it and down onto the street. It seemed to be easier for him not to look directly at Patton as he let those words sink in. 

“You... you wanna know a secret Patton?” Virgil asked softly. Patton opened his mouth to eagerly say yes, of course, before snapping it shut again, belatedly realising that was one of those questions that didn’t need an answer. One of the ones where the person was speaking more for the sound of their own voice or because they were working out something in their head. Either way, it meant that Virgil was going to tell him something, that he trusted him. That was just darn tootin awesome to think. 

“Hell, I don’t even know why I’m telling you. I literally met you what, a few hours ago? And yet there is something about you that makes me wanna... open up. I’ve not opened up to anyone. Ever.” Virgil lifted a hand to his head, touching against the greased back hair. He gave a grimace, pulling back and shaking his fingers slightly as if only belatedly remembering that there was lots of hair products in it. Patton could only see his profile but it was enough for hij to be able to read that expression and get a good idea of what he was thinking and feeling. He was worried. 

Virgil almost always worried, but this seemed different. This was more the ‘actually I’m justified in worrying about this’ over the ‘I’m worried the cons of petting a cat do not outweigh the pros’. As if there could ever be enough negatives to outweigh giving a cat the sort of love that it deserved! Modern science made so many wonderful anti allergy medications now and what was a little blocked nose, running eyes, closed up throat and the like compared to having something fluffy and wonderful showing you some love? 

“Aww you can trust me! I’m just a friendly father loving figm-figure,” he stumbled a little over the last word, a belated shift as he realised figment was hardly the right thing to say. Virgil was looking at him a little funny, one eyebrow raised but he hadn’t questioned him on the odd choice of word. Patton was taking every little thing he could and that had to be a sign. He smiled, trying to push all of his warmth, his love into the expression. To will with his eyes and lips alone just how much he cared about Virgil and how he wanted to listen. 

“I wanna help kiddo. What’s wrong?” Patton felt bad for pushing but he couldn’t help but be worried about Virgil. This wasn’t even about trying to find a way out of here anymore, this was concern because his kiddo was clearly hurting. Whatever he needed to do in order to find his way home could wait until he had cheered Virgil up. It could wait until his best friend wasn’t looking as though his heart had been ripped from his chest and someone was jumping up and down on it. Hearts weren’t bouncy. They weren’t fun trampolines, they were delicate and easily bruised. 

If there was one thing that Patton knew, it was the heart. He was lucky that way, to know himself. Or at least, he hoped he knew himself. He knew how the heart worked, how it felt. He did his best to listen to it and to encourage others to do the same. Big headed perhaps, but Patton liked to think that his encouragement and advice had helped Roman and Virgil finally get together. He had always been team them, even when it had felt like he was the only one who thought the two of them could ever even like each other. Let alone love each other. 

He knew when a heart was hurting as well, and Virgil’s was all but screaming out to him. 

The smile that Virgil gave him in return was utterly without humour, without warmth. It was colder than the snow Patton had woken up in. The sort of smile that Patton never wanted to see on the face of someone he loved, ever again. 

“I’m not brave. I’m actually terrified out of my mind. All the time. This whole thing has just... escalated beyond belief. I didn’t want to lead a gang. I didn’t want to have a war. But I wasn’t going to just sit idly by and let Remus and his ‘suggestions’ take over the streets. There are people out that are counting on me, people who have lives that they can only have because I’m in charge and not Remus. He would hurt them and I can’t let that happen.” 

If anything, Virgil’s words only reinforced the belief Patton had that his friend was strong. He couldn’t even start to imagine what it had to feel like, to carry all those worries and responsibilities around on his shoulders. Everyone seemed to be looking to Virgil for advice and support. Who supported him in turn? Who could Virgil turn to when he needed a moment’s peace? From the sounds of his words, Patton had to guess nobody. 

Well, he had somebody now. Patton was all in. He was part of the gang - he had the jacket to prove it - and until someone came to find him, he was going to stay here and do what he could to help.

Staying put was probably the best plan. That was what Thomas’ parents had always told him to do if he ever got lost. Stay where you were and they would find him.

So if Patton stayed where he was, the others would find him. And then they could all go and find the Virgil they knew. In the meantime, he had this mirror image of his friend to protect. Patton might not have been able to stop him being dragged off into some dark and distant corner of the mind but he could stop this Virgil from engaging in further war. He could protect him as Virgil deserved to be protected. 

Patton opened his mouth, intent on saying just that, when the sound of revving bikes suddenly filled the air. It was as though the whole street outside had suddenly become one track of bikes roaring around. The quiet of the night was shattered by sounds that Patton was sure shouldn’t be allowed in the middle of the day, let alone at this time of night. Not that Patton knew what time of night it was, only that it seemed late and he should really be more tired than he was. 

There was a lot of things that he should be more than he was. He should have been hungry when he ate. Or at the very least, he should be full now, because that had been a huge bowl of soup. Strange, Patton couldn’t really remember eating it. He remembered the first few mouthfuls and then the last when Anton had interrupted him, but the time in the middle was lost in a blink of an eye. Stranger still, he didn’t feel as though he had eaten anything and soup was designed to be filling. When he licked his lips, Patton couldn’t get any hint of the flavour. It had been vegetable... something. What, Patton, couldn’t quite remember.

Carefully, Virgil leaned forward, the very tips of his fingers pressing against the dirty glass window as he peered through it, trying to see out onto the street.

“Remus,” Virgil hissed, leaping back from the window like a scalded cat. His shoulders somehow rose even higher up around his head, almost to his ears. More and more, he reminded Patton of a cat, an angry, indignant creature that had been forced beyond its limits. 

“Boss!” Anton staggered back into the room, a panic stricken expression on his face. It looked so odd on his face and Patton had always associated Anton with the more confident aspects of Thomas’ mind and to see him the complete opposite... it was wrong. It was like seeing the most delicious chocolate chip cupcake in the world, but when you bit into it, the chocolate chips turned out to be raisins. Or seeing a clown and _not_ being scared of them. 

“I know, I know. Remus is outside,” Virgil snapped, hand half lifting towards his hair before he apparently thought better of it. “Is Nate back? And has he said what he wants?” 

“No, I’ve not heard from Nate yet. You know what he is like Boss. The Duke says send out our dead... he says send you out or he’s going to tear this place down brick by brick. With his teeth.” Anton’s voice was apologetic, lacking any of the gruffness that had characterised it whenever he spoke to Patton. It was clear that he adored Virgil, and that he wished he had better news for him. It was doubtful even if he remembered Patton was there, too focused on having to deliver all this bad news. 

Patton was equally distracted, turning over the new news in his mind as best he could. Had Nate suddenly embraced his trait again? Of all the worst times for some sense of reality to kick in and start pushing them all back into the roles they were supposed to inhabit. 

Virgil shook his head, lips still curled in that unhappy smile. It felt as though the answer Anton gave him wasn’t a complete surprise to Virgil but Patton couldn’t help but feel a little shocked by Remus threat, if nothing else.

Although, threatening to rip a building to pieces by the force of your teeth alone was a very Remus thing to suggest. As if in silent confirmation to his thoughts, Virgil spoke, words low and measured. There was a falseness to his tone however, a calmness that felt forced rather than real. As if he was more worried than he let on. Which would make sense, since he had already admitted that he was more afraid than he ever wanted to admit. 

“He will. He’s unpredictable but he can’t afford to make that kind of threat and not carry it out. He’ll lose any respect or fear he has managed to gain with the idiots that follow him if he does that.”

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly looked very tired. All the restless energy of the previous few moments had gone and in their place stood a Virgil that looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but here. Patton felt something heavy drop into his stomach, a sickening lurch as some of the pieces started to slot into place. He knew - he knew just - what Virgil was going to say before he actually said it. 

It was still an unpleasant shock to see Virgil straighten himself up to his full height, jut his chin up in a movement of aggressive determination and say the words Patton didn’t want to hear. 

“Tell him I’m coming out.”

“Virgil, you can’t!” Anton looked flabbergasted by the statement, almost as though he had forgotten that Virgil was exactly the sort of person to step in front of a blow and take it if it meant protecting another. Right now, Patton couldn’t help but wish that this version of Virgil wasn’t quite so true to the original. It hurt to think about what was happening, Patton’s hands pressed over his mouth in silent agony. All he could do was pray that somehow things would turn out okay. Things were meant to turn out okay. This was Virgil - how could it end in a fight like this?

“Don’t tell me I can’t Anton. You know I _have_ to.”

“Remus isn’t playing this time. He’s brought pretty much his whole gang, if you go out there...” Anton trailed off, the meaning of his words apparent enough and Patton felt sick to his stomach the longer he stood here. It was as though he was a spectator of the play in front of him, unable to speak or influence the drama at all. Patton’s voice was gone, frozen in the moment as his wide eyes shifted from Virgil to Anton and then back again.

“Ah, that is where you’re wrong. Remus is always playing some kind of game.” Inexplicably, the savage smile returned to Virgil’s face. The momentary lapse of weakness and fatigue was lost under the promised violence of the smile. “He just never bothers to tell anyone when the rules have changed. This is something new, but it is just a variation on one of his themes. The only way to find out what he actually wants is to give him the first thing he asked for. Me.” 

He softened a fraction, hand reaching out to rest on Anton’s shoulder. The mood shifted, becoming more somber, downbeat. 

“Don’t worry Anton. I’ll make him choke on me, if I go down I will take him with me. You have to get everyone who can’t fight out okay? The young, the ill, the old. There is the old tunnels, I never showed Remus them. Get our people down there, along the safe houses. And then get as many able bodies as you can back. And someone find out what the hell is taking Nate so long. I need my bike.”

In a strange way, Patton was almost distracted by the words. By the fact that Virgil was talking so much and in a few short hours he had heard him say more than he had probably heard Virgil say in a week. It was a terrible subject and it was one that he wished they would stop talking about because this was fighting and thus wrong. But at the same time it was almost good to hear Virgil say so much, to know that there was a world where he felt confident enough to speak as he did. 

Anton’s shoulders sagged, his whole body going slightly limp as he nodded slowly. No further words apparently needed to be said, the trait turning and leaving by one of the side doors. Presumably to carry out his orders and get the weaker members out to safety. To let Virgil be a stupid self sacrificing idiot so that he could protect the people he had decided to care about. 

For a single second, Patton wondered why a biker gang would have old or sick people. Why would they let them in, in the first place? Or waste time and effort on them after? Then again, this was Virgil’s gang, it was probably almost completely made up of strays he had come across in the city. All the unwanted and unseen. Just like he had adopted Patton into it.

Another second was spent wondering if he was going to get a bike once this was all sorted and settled down. And if he could put little stickers of cats and dogs over it in order to personalise it.

Virgil took a few steps towards the door that led to the hallway and then outside, snapping him from his thoughts. Outside, to Remus and a fight that Patton felt he wouldn’t win. He didn’t like doubting his son, normally Patton was of the view that Virgil could do anything if he set his mind to it. Still, he couldn’t help himself. If Virgil went out there and fought as his instincts were telling him to do, then he would lose.

Would they all lose if that was the case?

“You don’t have to fight Virgil,” Patton half begged, his mind stuck on that thought and that thought alone. This felt all wrong and he couldn’t bear it. 

Thomas had watched enough superhero films to know what happened to people who got into fights. And those were people who had powers to start with. Unless you were the named hero - and sometimes even then - you tended to end up in a painful place. Or dead. Normally, dead. And Virgil wasn’t a superhero even if he was one of Patton’s heroes. 

This Virgil was just a guy with a bike, trying to protect what was his. That sort of character didn’t last in movies beyond the first act. Especially after they opened their hearts and showed a more vulnerable side to someone. That was like asking to be killed for the so called shock value. If that happened to Virgil... well it would be shocking. It wouldn’t be valuable. 

“It’s all I know how to do,” Virgil replied tiredly. He rubbed a hand over his face, looked tired and done with the world once more. “If I don’t fight, Remus will just take it, more and more each day and it is the people I care for that will suffer. He has never been so bold as to call me out directly. I think I know the game he expects to play.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he thinks he is going to win this fight.” Virgil’s lips curled into a sneer and Patton was struck forcibly by the reminder that Virgil was Anxiety. And that Anxiety wasn’t always good. That there was a very good reason why they had always thought of Anxiety as the villain of the story. 

He could be scary when he put his mind to it. When he believed that there was nothing else to do, his back against the wall. Just like this Virgil felt. He was determined to go down fighting when really, Patton didn’t want him to go down at all. There had to be something else here, another way they could deal with this. Thomas wasn’t a fighter. All of that was normally kept within Virgil and Virgil himself while capable of it, had never shown himself eager to resort to that.

Until now it seemed.


	6. The Sea Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another chapter already. Man how time flies! This chapter was beta-ed by the ever wonderful **yamiaainferno**! I really appreciate them stepping in and looking over this for me and helping me fix all the many errors I made. I’ll be going back and editing previous chapters over the coming days as they’ve very kindly started doing those ones too, so expect a much more polished and superior version of this story from now on!
> 
> Tumblr gonna tumblr. Come say hi @theeternalspace

** **

### The Sea Witch

** **

Automatically, Virgil pressed a little closer to Roman in order to try and put some distance between himself and the pirates that were still celebrating on deck. A quick scan of the horizon showed Roman that there were no other ships to be seen, and thus no excuse for them to get back to their duties. Even the remains of the ship he had - presumably - taken Virgil from were no longer really visible, the very tip of its top mast gently slipping under the waves as he watched.

Roman squeezed Virgil’s hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. From the way the other man flinched, he was pretty sure he had failed and just made him think he wanted to hurt him. This was going the opposite to the way he had wanted.

“Weh hey, looks like the captain caught his prize! Thought you could run, eh?” The one eyed pirate had no idea when to shut up. Roman really wished he knew his name so that he could order... something. At the very least, order him to go and do some job far away from him so that he didn’t have to listen to his terrible comments any longer. 

“Give us a go, Captain!” Another pirate now, dressed in a dirty shirt that might have once been yellow. “I’ll give him a lesson he won’t soon forget! He shouldn’t disrespect you like that, thinking he could run.”

Beside him, Virgil wasn’t breathing. He was still trembling, ever so subtly, a soft little flutter that let Roman know he was still alive, along with little tugs on his hand. It felt as though Virgil kept trying to take a step away from him before finding the other pirates scarier. It was clear that he wanted nothing more than to run again, but had nowhere to go. 

“And who are you, to give such lessons?” Roman asked, keeping his voice low. It was almost calm, as if Roman were asking directions or discussing who was going to buy the next round of drinks. He took the tiniest step to the side, shielding Virgil from view, his gaze fixed firmly on the pirate who looked a lot less confident than he had a moment ago. 

“Cap... I didn’t... I didn’t mean nothing,” the pirate stammered. Around him, the other pirates took small steps away, creating a ripple that left him isolated and an even more obvious a target. Roman tutted quietly, nodding his head in agreement. 

“That’s right. I’m the Captain. I make the orders, you all follow them. If anyone disobeys me, I will be the one to decide the punishment. And you think to usurp that role from me?” The threat was clear in his tone. Just in case it could be somehow misinterpreted, he placed his free hand against the hilt of his sword - his lantern, helpfully vanishing in that way dream objects were wont to do.

“Set him to work below decks. Show him how we treat would be traitors... but don’t kill him. I’m a merciful Captain.” 

To his internal satisfaction, a couple of the other pirates instantly jumped forward, hands catching at the first pirate’s coat. He made no effort to defend himself, merely shrinking into his form and meekly following them as they led him away. It appeared as though Roman had more power here than he had first realised. Which meant he probably was a terrible pirate captain in one of the meanings of the word. 

Throughout it all, Virgil had remained a silent presence beside him and if it hadn’t been for that pinprick of heat that was his hand against his own, Roman might have doubted he was still there. Virgil followed nicely enough when Roman started to move again, gently drawing his caped love with him. He was silent as they passed through the rest of the pirates, his crew separating like waves to let him move further along. One stepped forward, opening the door to his cabin. Roman and Virgil moved inside and still Virgil was quiet. 

In all honesty, it was starting to get to Roman a little bit. Virgil was a quiet one, true, and there were times when Roman had to carry the whole conversation, but ever since the Hogwarts video the silence between them had grown more and more comfortable. Ever since they had started dating, it had felt like the warm type of quiet, where he could hear all the things unsaid in the spaces between words. Virgil had taught him how to appreciate the beauty of quiet.

There was nothing beautiful about this silence. Nothing calm, peaceful, or even warm. It felt cold, a chill that made Roman want to shiver, and it was all coming from the man beside him who was examining the room as if he had never seen it before. 

Slowly, Virgil let go of his hand. Roman didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to lose that sole source of contact, of warmth. He had to though, he had to start proving himself in action as well as words. He had to show that he wasn’t like the others, that he wasn’t going to take anything that Virgil didn’t want to give. 

There was an over the top, exaggerated carefulness to Virgil’s steps. As though he expected any second to trigger some sort of trap underfoot. Roman didn’t know what he was expecting and without knowing that, there was no way to reassure him. All he could do was let the other man put a few paces distance between them, until he was standing beside the narrow bed. 

“Come on then. Teach me that lesson.” 

The first words spoken to him by Virgil and they were ones of anger and hurt. There was a fire within them, a fire that was matched by the intensity of his gaze, Virgil lifting his head to stare at him. He looked scared, and still only a second or two away from running, but he wasn’t backing down. He wasn’t giving Roman the benefit of any doubt. Why should he have expected or hoped anything better? That wasn’t the way in which this dream seemed to work.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Or... do that. Or do anything to you.” 

“But you sai-” 

“I would have said anything to get him to back down Virgil. I have to play the part! The crew out there expect a bloodthirsty Captain and if I don’t give it to them they will make another in my place. And then I won’t be able to protect you. But I swear, on my honour... on my ship, you will be safe. Nobody will touch you. Including myself.” 

The silence descended on them once more. It still felt cold and unwelcoming. Perhaps it was just Roman’s natural optimism, but he couldn't help but think that while the air was still undeniably cold, it perhaps wasn’t just as bad as before. That maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of warmth in it. The first snowdrops of the year, poking through still frosty ground and proclaiming that the thaw was coming.

“You are a very strange pirate.” Virgil said at last. His voice was softer now. It was still on guard, but he appeared more confused than anything as Roman refused to act as he had no doubt expected. 

“Oh darling. You have no idea,” Roman promised with a grin. “Come on, have a seat, you must be shattered. I’ll stay over here don’t worry. Would you like something to eat?” 

Again, Virgil gave him that look, wary and uncertain. An animal that had been attacked so many times that it couldn’t quite believe the hand wasn’t going to hit it, and anyway no longer knew how to respond to kindness. 

“Yeah... yeah, something to eat would be good,” he admitted, settling himself primly down on the very edge of the bed. His wide eyes were still fixed on Roman, watching as he moved over to the door and stuck his head out, ordering one of the loitering pirates to bring some food. Virgil’s gaze didn’t falter as Roman waited by the door, only moving back towards them when the promised food had been delivered.

“It’s not a meal fit for a king, but it will do,” Roman explained. Was it his imagination, or had Virgil flinched slightly when he said king? Or had it been the food itself that had caused that reaction? Roman couldn’t understand either way what could have made him curl up into an even smaller ball. A coiled spring that had no outlet, no matter how badly it needed one. 

Roman placed the tray of food down on the desk near the bed. It was indeed simple, water, bread, cheese and a few pieces of fruit. The fruit had to be from his own personal store, because he doubted fresh oranges were a normal thing to find on a pirate ship. They didn’t last long. Unless, of course, they were spoils from some previous raiding.

Which meant that somewhere, someone else was going without their oranges, and Roman wasn’t really that hungry anymore. He had changed his mind yet again. Being a pirate wasn’t cool, and costumes aside, he didn’t want to repeat this.

Virgil picked up one of the oranges, cupping it carefully. For the first time, his gaze was missing that hostility and uncertainty. Instead he was staring down at the fruit with undisguised wonder, as though he had been given something precious instead of a citrus fruit. The small ball shaped snack was lifted up, Virgil pressing it against his nose and sniffing deeply, drawing in the scene. Little odd, but hey, orange was a pleasant enough smell. It was a normal thing to do.

What wasn’t normal was the way Virgil lowered it a fraction and took a savage bite out of the fruit, thick peel and all. 

Or at least, he attempted to. It was a little hard, it appeared, to actually bite through the thick rind of an orange, but he seemed determined to make a go of it. Gamely, Virgil chewed on the mouthful that he had managed to pull out, juice and bits of orange falling out of his mouth. It was, quite possibly, the most unattractive Roman had ever seen Virgil. 

A little part of him still wanted to kiss him. He was really whipped. 

“Dude, what on earth?!” Roman forgot that he was meant to be calm and soft, that his whole goal had been to make Virgil trust him. He was far too focused on both the gross image that he was being presented with and the fact that it didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss his boyfriend. What did that say about him? What did that say about Virgil, that he was willing to make such a statement? 

“Sorry, not sorry?” Virgil replied, looking at Roman with a quizzical expression. As though he had no idea why Roman was so grossed out. Honestly, that was the sort of thing that his Virgil was likely to do, just to get attention. This was one part of the dream that he wasn’t going to tell him about - Roman couldn’t help but worry that it might give him ideas. 

Roman waved a hand towards him, mouth still twisted into a grimace. At least Virgil hadn’t reacted badly to his raised voice, that was a positive. He wasn’t sure if it really outweighed the horror of watching someone try and eat an orange like it was an apple, but it was certainly something. 

“Geeze, peel it, please. I don’t have the stomach to see that.” 

Virgil glanced back down at the fruit, the confused expression still on his face. Eyebrows were furrowed, drawn together as he considered Roman’s words. It wasn’t as though he had set him a particularly challenging task, and yet he seemed uncertain for a few seconds as to what he should do. If he was debating whether or not he should actually listen to Roman, he had chosen a really odd time to find that hill to stake his claim on. 

Slowly, he picked away at the peel, tiny flakes of orange dropping around him like confetti. It gave him something to focus on, something to do. While Roman would have preferred that he just peel it normally, at least he didn’t seem angry anymore. He almost seemed entertained by every little scrap he pulled off, like a child tearing something to pieces for the first time.

Roman felt a smile twitch on his lips as Virgil swallowed the first segment. The tasted seemed to make the purple haired man relax even more. Maybe something good was going to come of this dream after all. He just had to work out how he was going to question Virgil to learn all the missing parts of his history, without making it too obvious what he was doing.

\--

Like many of Roman’s plans, it was better thought of than actually attempted. His... well, Roman wanted to say guest, but Virgil insisted on the term captive, was understandably reluctant to tell him anything. The fact that they had spent so long arguing about the correct term to use to describe Virigl’s position within the ship should have been a big enough hint that things were not going to go smoothly for Roman’s plan. Really, the only good thing about it was that Virgil had gradually become less and less afraid of him the longer they argued. 

He still flinched and shied away from him if Roman made any sudden movements. He still looked at him as though he was some terrifying monster half of the time. He still acted as if he would rather run and see how far away he could get. 

All of that, and yet Roman still thought it was going better. 

Because Virgil had fallen asleep. He had been exhausted, but had fought the pull of sleep for as long as he could. It reminded Roman of when Thomas was a child and they had tried to stay up in order to meet Santa Claus. Well, Roman and Patton had tried to stay up with Thomas. Logan had gone to bed at his usual time saying the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he would wake and enjoy his gifts. To this day, Roman didn’t know what Virgil had done that night. He should know. He should ask but - but he was a little afraid of what the answer might be. It wasn’t going to be a good one, he was fairly sure of that, but he honestly wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it if it was really bad. 

They had tried so hard to stay awake that night. So excited, chattering to each other as he curled up in sleeping backs in the main area of the mind. In the real world, Thomas had been just as excited, huddled under the blankets with a book and a torch. He wrote down every sound and thought that passed through his mind as though he was on some kind of adventure. In a way, he had been. The adventure to meet Santa Claus.

They had all fallen asleep before he had arrived, of course. They always did. That didn’t take away the magic of trying, the enjoyment they got out of those late night sleepovers. 

Virgil’s motives had been a lot less heartwarming and a lot more depressing. It hadn’t been excitement at who he might meet which had kept him awake, but the fear of what might happen if he fell asleep. Roman couldn’t help but feel offended that. As if he would try and kiss him when he was asleep! Or do anything. Or let his crew do anything.

Gradually, however, the pull of sleep had become too strong for Virgil to resist and he had slipped off into slumber. Roman stayed awake. He was determined to prove himself, so that when his beloved woke the next morning, he would find himself perfectly safe. And then maybe Romam could finally find out what on earth was going on. There was always a story within his dreams, a quest he had to undertake. Roman didn’t know how it worked exactly, but over the years he had worked out a few theories.

Namely, that he was stuck in the dream world until the story resolved itself. He didn’t mean stuck as in literally stuck, could never wake up again. That could cause who knew what sort of damage to Thomas. He meant that everytime he fell asleep, he would pick up the thread of this story until it came to an end. It might take a single night, it might take weeks. Like returning to a book you were reading through, chapter by chapter. There was no getting out of it as far as Roman knew. Luckily, it was still his imagination and so while he might have had the occasional nightmare, there had never been a dream that he hated to the point he struggled to get through it.

Still, Roman would be glad when this story was over. When he could dream of a Virgil that loved him back as he was meant to. Until then he would just have to do whatever he could to try and make this Virgil happy. If that meant sitting bolt upright on the opposite side of the cabin while he slept, then so be it. 

The mirror on the desk seemed to be glowing. 

He was pretty sure it wasn't meant to glow. Mirrors didn’t tend to do that. Sure, there were magic mirrors, there were men in mirrors, but that was all within a fantasy world and Roman had yet to see any hint that he was in a fairy tale land. 

Roman took a step forward and yes, it was most certainly glowing. Which meant what exactly? That there was some form of magic floating around? That maybe there was even more to this story than he had suspected? What further twists and turns could his own mind throw at him? The light continued to shine, growing brighter and stronger by the moment. It bathed the whole cabin in light, extinguishing the lantern by his bed until only the pale green of the mirror was left. It gave the whole room a rather ghostly, other worldly effect.

He hoped he wasn’t going to have to battle the dead. Battling ghosts was one thing, battling zombies was quite another. They were dirty, disgusting things. The last time he had fought one of them, it had the nerve to have exploded upon its second death, coating him in its slimy, horrible guts. 

Those had been a terrible few seconds before he had clicked himself into a new, clean outfit. 

That was the stuff of nightmares, and he never wanted to fight zombies again. Or anything that was like that. Slime monsters. Gooey, rotting corpses. Yes, he really didn’t want to deal with the undead, but green light seemed to imply that. Although, to be fair, green could mean a lot of things. Some of which he liked, some that he didn’t, and some that he really didn’t want to even think of.

He wasn’t going to get an answer standing a few feet from the desk and just staring at the handheld mirror. It was lying with its shiny, polished face upwards, the light spilling out from that as though there was something else on the other side. A tiny portal into some other world. It might be dangerous. It might be a brand new adventure. 

As if Roman would be that lucky. He snatched it up in one fluid motion, tilting it towards his face and peering intently inside.

Not zombies. Or ghosts. Not unless you counted a shipwreck as a ghost, and he supposed there were such things as ghost ships... but that didn’t seem to be the case here. He was looking out onto a seabed, green seaweed and moss covering the rotting carcass of what had once been a ship sailing proudly above the waves. Somehow, Roman was staring out through a portal into what felt like another world. It was magical in its own right, a beauty under the sea that he would never be able to experience himself. 

A shadow flitted past the corner of his eye. Roman frowned, focusing his attention on the bottom right corner where he had seen the movement, staring intently at the bow of the ship. The figurehead had come loose sometime since the ship sank, a majestic trident wielding man. He was pointing upwards towards the brief little flickers of light that were what sunlight could penetrate this deep. 

What he certainly wasn’t doing however was moving. And yet Roman had seen something. He knew he had seen something. 

Without thinking, he pulled the mirror a little closer to his face, trying to make out what that speck of darkness was. A speck, he now realised, that was growing larger and larger. It flew out from the head of the figure, the fragile wood splintering and exploding outwards with the force of the moment. Whatever it was, it was very large and very fast.

Black and green tinted tentacles suddenly filled the mirror, a writhing, pulsing mess of motion. The green was far more striking than the pale shade which was still illuminating the cabin. After a moment or two, they passed by his viewpoint, Roman able to get his first proper view of the sea creature. He sort of wished that he hadn’t.

“Roman, daaarling.” 

Remus? In _his_ dream? 

It was apparently more likely than he thought.

The grinning face of his brother looked back at him. Or not quite his brother. His brother’s head and upper body were attached to the lower form of an octopus, shell necklace peeking out from the unbuttoned shirt. He was showing even more chest that Roman was. That smile wasn’t the same either. Tooth after jagged tooth filled his mouth. They were all thin and all very, very sharp. The kind of sharpness that he could imagine ripping raw flesh apart with ease. Roman wasn’t scared of Remus at all, but he had to admit, the sight of those teeth did give him reason to pause. 

That was all he needed, the appearance of his brother. Remus had a great talent for taking anything he could get his hands on and twisting it beyond all recognition. He created in his own way, it was a destructive form of creativity, but it was still a form. With Remus in the picture, there was all of a sudden so many horrible ways in which this could go.

And why did he look like Ursula from The Little Mermaid? Not that he really looked like her beyond the octopus theme, which was Remus’ chosen animal anyway. Still, Roman could recognize an influence when he saw it, and he saw the great sea witch in his brother. 

With a snarl, Roman pulled his sword free, tip pointed directly at the centre of the small mirror. For all he knew, Remus might be able to pass through it. Or pull Roman through it. Was this why Virgil had been running? Trust his brother to ruin everything, even a dream. If anyone could make his beloved afraid, it would be him.

“A sword? Really dearest?” Remus lifted a tentacle, artfully swiping his white lock of hair away from his face. Not that it did much good, the currents of the water ensuring that it gently floated back down in front of him once more. He tutted heavily, shaking his head, hair just getting more and more messed up with every motion.“What are you going to do with that? Smash the mirror? That’s seven years bad luck, don’t you know.”

“Remus, enough. I am in no mood for your games.” Roman snapped, and he should have known his brother would be behind this. No wonder the pirates were bland and uninspiring. It wasn’t Remus’ forte, creating those types of characters. He didn’t deny that Remus had talent of course - he was still a part of Thomas and a part of Roman himself. Just as Roman was a part of Remus. It wasn’t a thought he normally liked to dwell on, but it was the truth nevertheless. They were both Creativity. They both had their areas of expertise, they both shone in different ways. 

If Remus was in his dream, then that meant they were having one of their increasingly rare shared dreams. It had been years since they had last had one. That last one had ended particularly badly, even for a dream that they were both in. There had been screaming, blood and harsh words which he was sure both had carried around with them long after the dream itself had ended.

Funny, but looking back, Roman couldn’t even really remember what the dream’s story had actually been about, only that the two of them had been unable to coexist. In dreams, it really felt as though the town wasn’t big enough for the two of them. All he knew for sure was that they hadn’t shared a dream since... and yet here they were. 

But why was Virgil here? Why didn’t he know him? 

If this truly was more Remus than Roman, then Virgil should still know who he was. It was the one constant Roman clung to and he would have backed down from all sorts of control points if it meant keeping that one thing. He would have allowed Remus to choose everything else... and yet here they were, and Roman seemed to have none of the power.

Remus shook his whole body in disagreement, tentacles rising and falling in some dramatic shrug. 

“Oh no, no, no, I don’t think so. Although I’m flattered you know me. I guess my reputation really does precede me. Although if that was the case then you should know, it is always time for games.” Remus replied glibby. His words just made Roman’s head hurt. 

Why was he pretending not to know him? 

“What are you talking about? Remus, what are you doing? Stop this and tell me the rules to your demented little game,” Roman bluntly asked. Remus never went along with the dreams like this. Roman wasn’t in the mood for guessing games and there were so many possibilities. None of which he would know for sure until Remus told him. He always played himself, the Duke, and while this sea witch was indeed Remus, it was far outside the normal realms of his roles. 

If he was a sea witch. He looked like one, but then again, appearances could so often be deceptive. Whoever Remus was, he was certainly magical. 

“Oh, rules.” Remus looked positively delighted by the idea, and that... that actually scared Roman a little. Who was this sea witch and what had they done with his brother? Since when did Remus respond like that to the idea of rules? Rules meant control, meant order, and Remus normally stood opposed to that. 

“Very well. The rules are very simple, even a little pirate like you should be able to understand them. Give me the prince and I’ll answer any other questions. No, give me the prince and I’ll make you rich. That’s what you pirates like isn’t it? Gold? As though it matters, it all ends up back in my domain but since you all like to kill each other over it, it must give you some pleasure. Gold for a prince, what could be an easier rule to follow than that?” 

“What prince?” Roman asked, half trying to stall for time in general and half trying to test the limits of this world. What prince was being conjured into being right now. Was it him?

Could you be a prince pirate? There was no law against it, and it might be fun to combine his regal behaviour with some daring deeds on the high sea. Well... there actually was a law against being a pirate. Several in fact. 

“Oh. Didn’t he tell you? How naughty of Virgil, not like him at all. Prince of the sea, that one. Fell in love with a human. Or fell in lust I suppose, love at first sight is a fairy tale after all. So he got himself some legs and tried to win himself a brand new life. Worked for a little while but then the human got bored, like you all do. Tossed him aside like he was mouldy old seaweed.” Remus gave a dramatic sigh for effect, Roman simply crossing his arms and staring at him. He wasn’t going to react. He wasn’t going to give Remus - or this dream version of Remus, but quite frankly Roman didn’t believe that - the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to him. 

Roman pushed aside the twinge of pain he felt at the idea that Virgil had fallen in love, or lust, with someone that wasn’t him. This wasn’t his Virgil. And anyway, this was all before the story had really begun. Now he had a chance to woo this Virgil as he deserved to be wooed, to love him in all realities. That was all Roman really wanted from life. Nothing big. Nothing too dramatic.

Just to have the man he loved by his side in real life, in dreams and everything in between. Nothing big.

It really wasn’t the time to be thinking of such things. Of course, Roman was romantic, he was always thinking of that kind of thing. Part of his brain was forever working on either his own love life or Thomas’. He would come up with all sorts of date ideas. Now that Virgil was his partner, his boyfriend, he had the perfect excuse to try out all of them. 

Not even Virgil could complain about that. Testing them first meant Virgil would know if Thomas could handle them. It meant that he got to enjoy them, and Roman got to see his love being happy. They got to spend some time in each others’ company for work and that was just doubling their productivity. Even Logan wouldn’t be able to say anything bad about that. 

Roman had a sneaking suspicion that Virgil didn’t hate some of the ideas as much as he originally claimed to. And Roman normally won him round to the idea in the end. Those that Virgil persisted in thinking terrible, even after they tried them, were put firmly in the no column. The even rarer few that Viril refused to so much as consider were banished forever. It did make Thomas’ dates go a lot smoother, when both his creativity and his anxiety were confident about a situation. 

Romance was not where his mind was supposed to be, though. Romance was not going to help him get through this conversation. For maybe the first time, love would fail him. 

What he had to think about was what Remus was telling him and what horrors were bound to come next. 

It seemed as if he was in a fairy tale after all. One which borrowed heavily not from Disney, but from the older and original source material. As much as he loved them, they weren’t as keen on ‘happy ever after’ as the modern retellings were. They tended to lean towards meanings, towards lessons. A lot were heavily rooted in Christianity, disguised as a pretty little magical tale where terrible fates eventually happened to those who tried to be more than they were. The Little Mermaid was one such example. In the original story, she didn’t win the love of her prince.

In fact, Roman was pretty sure she died. He had a horrible feeling he knew where this story was going. It was all rather depressingly familiar. Remus’ smile grew, that already sharp smile getting all the more dangerous. 

“He made a deal with me you see. ‘Oh Remus, please help me, you’re so powerful, you’re so sexy’... okay, he didn’t say that second part. He didn’t need to, I could see it in his eyes. Shame that human had already distracted him. But, he failed. His true love wasn’t so true after all. Which means he belongs to _me_,” Remus told him, voice slipping into a deep growl on the last word.

“Hand him over and you may have the riches of the deep, just as I said,” Remus offered. As if anything could tempt Roman away from the love of his life. It didn’t even matter that this was just a dream version of Virgil, it was still the wrong thing to do. He could never hurt his beloved like that. 

Not to mention Virgil would _know_.

It didn’t change his behaviour in the slightest, but he had no doubt that Virgil would know if he just handed over the dream version of himself to anyone. Let alone hand him over to his twin brother. Roman still didn’t know the extent of Virgil’s history with Remus. It was a touchy subject at the best of times, and one that he had made clear he wasn’t willing to talk about. It hadn’t been the best period of his life, and that was all Virgil was willing to say on the matter.

Right now, that was enough for him to be determined that he wouldn’t give him up. Roman shrugged, allowing a faintly puzzled expression to cross his features and he was an actor after all. 

“I’m sorry, the connection is going, what did you say? Something about ditches in the meat? What does that even mean?”

Remus frowned, a tentacle flicking against the image and Roman had to force himself not to flinch in response. It reminded him of someone tapping on a screen to try and clear it up and he had to fight not to smile at the mental image. 

“Okay, talk to you later, bye!” 

In a flash, Roman twisted the mirror, placing it face down on the desk. He waited with bated breath, watching as the colours continued to flicker around the edges. Remus was right, breaking a mirror was seven years bad luck, but then he was faced with bad luck already in the form of his brother. 

Just when he decided he would have to break the mirror to sever the connection, the light vanished. Tentatively, Roman turned the mirror around again. Nothing but his own reflection stared back at him, the walls of his cabin behind. Wherever Remus was and whatever he was doing, he wasn’t using this mirror anymore. 

It was a respite of sorts, and one that Roman had to take full advantage of. 

Maybe that hadn’t been Remus after all. Thomas was growing more powerful by the day, more confident and in control of his own creative skills. Which meant that Roman was growing more powerful - and Remus, but he was doing his best not to think about that fact. It was possible that he had grown powerful enough to conjure up a fake version of his brother. The thought cheered him up slightly, and he couldn’t help but imagine how he was going to rub Remus’ nose in that fact later. 

Neither of them had ever been able to make each other in a dream before. 

The downside to that was there was a good chance that Remus might be able to make a version of him. Because in theory, whatever one could do, so could the other. It didn’t always work like that, of course. There were some things either twin was just physically incapable of doing. And then there were some things that Roman quite frankly refused to do. 

The fact remained that there was a Remus in his dream. And unlike every time Remus had invaded his dream, he hadn’t gleefully announced himself. Instead he had played the role as if he were the character. So either he was playing an unusually long game, or Roman had gotten a new skill. 

Then again, maybe he had always been able to do it but had never wanted to, not even subconsciously. But now that his dreams had made him a Prince to save,he needed a villain to overcome. A dragon witch was many things, but even she would struggle to breathe underwater.

Although that did give him a couple of interesting ideas... no! He wanted to focus on this story, this adventure first. Roman wanted to sweep Virgil off his feet and enjoy this dream for as long as it lasted. So what if the sea witch wore the face of his brother, he didn’t appear to actually know Roman and that meant that he wasn’t going to ruin it. 

At least not outside of how badly he could ruin it by the fact he was the villain of the story. Any villain could ruin it. Especially when they seemed to be intent on taking Virgil. Speaking of Virgil... brown eyes flickered over to the bed, where Virgil was still sleeping. How he hadn’t woken up during the conversation was beyond Roman, but maybe that was just another aspect of the dream story telling. Keeping characters out of the way until they were needed. He needed Virgil now.

He just didn’t like the thought of having to wake him up. His Virgil never got enough sleep. Even though Roman knew this wasn’t his Virgil - his love was no doubt playing on his phone or listening to music or whatever else he did to pass the nighttime hours - he still looked like him. And some part of Roman still loved him for all the traits that he shared with his dark love.

Virgil... was okay wasn’t he? Roman couldn’t help but pause for a moment, a faint frown gracing his features as he tried to think about when he had last seen him. He didn’t really remember going to bed or falling asleep; but then you didnt in the middle of a dream. Even when you knew it was a dream. All the facts and realities of this world tried to overwhelm what you knew of your original one. Roman suspected it was that pressure which explained why so many people didn’t know they were in a dream and simply accepted whatever their mind threw at them. 

There was something though. Something nagging at the back of his mind now that he had started to think about how this started. A persistent itch that he couldn’t quite reach, no matter how hard he strained himself thinking about it. Roman would almost go as far as to say that something was wrong, except he wasn’t sure if the wrongness he could sense was in his world or the dream one.

Stressing about it wouldn’t get him anywhere. The thought, whatever it was, currently flowing through his fingers like water would come to him if he let it arrive at its own pace. He just had to be patient, which normally wasn’t really his thing, but luckily Roman had his current adventure to distract him. 

“Virgil...”

Instantly Virgil was awake and scrambling backwards on the bed until his back hit the wall. His chest was rising and falling as he pulled in great mouthfuls of air. He had gone from asleep to full on flight mode faster than Roman had ever seen his Virgil do. Knowing he had scared him hurt Roman, as though someone had punched him in the stomach and knocked all the air from his lungs. He lifted his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture, keeping himself a respectful distance away from Virgil. No matter how scared he was and how badly Roman wanted to just gather him up in his arms to promise everything would be okay, he had to keep his distance. 

“Hey, hey, its okay! I promised, remember? You are safe. From me... and from the Sea Witch Remus.”

Instantly, the room went silent, even Virgil’s breath cutting off as he stared at him. No sense in beating around the bush. Remus hadn’t threatened him or anything, but Roman was still left with the distinct feeling that he was a on a timer. He had seen and read enough fairytale stories to know what was bound to happen next. There was an attack coming, of that he was sure.

“Of course he told you...” Virgil’s whole body sagged. In a way, Roman felt as though Virgil seemed almost relieved that the secret was out. At least he wouldn’t have to explain it. Then again, he was probably just projecting his feelings. Virgil dipped his head to stare down at the blankets, unconsciously showing his trust in Roman. He couldn’t defend himself against attacks if he couldn’t see him. 

Virgil’s hand lifted to his neck, idly playing with the shell necklace hanging there. Now that Roman was looking at it, he couldn’t believe he had failed to recognize the significance of the pendant before. It was exactly the same design as the one in the Disney cartoon, albeit on a much smaller scale. True, only Ursula wore it but that still didn’t excuse his lapse. Roman should have been able to put the pieces together much faster than he actually had. 

With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Virgil finally lifted his gaze once more, meeting Roman’s own.

“So what is your price, Pirate? I might not be able to match Remus when it comes to pure gold but I am sure I have something that you want. Plus, unlike him, I will actually deliver it. His will come with tricks and traps. Before you know it, you’ll end up one of his collection too.”

For a moment, Roman was too stunned to even respond. He made no effort to hide his shock, mouth dropping open as he struggled to really comprehend what Virgil was saying. After everything Roman had done for him, after every move he had made to protect him and not one move to hurt him... he still thought that Roman would betray him to Remus. Not only that, but he had so little faith in Roman’s morals that he was almost business like in his attempt to barter for his freedom. 

It was the pirate thing again, wasn’t it? Pirates had a bad reputation for a reason, and he probably wasn’t doing himself any favours by being a captain. You had to rise through the ranks, and that normally meant doing something worse than anyone else. 

“I’m not going to sell you to Remus. I’d never betray you, let alone to _him_.”

Once again, Virgil was staring at him with mistrust large in his features. He still didn’t look as scared as he had yesterday, which was something, but Roman had had more than enough of that expression on Virgil’s face to last a lifetime. Both in the real world in the past, and this dream tonight.

“Why not?”

“Because...” Roman trailed off, his mind working furiously as he tried to think of something that would make sense to this Virgil. He couldn’t tell him the truth. Not only would it not be believed, but on the off chance that it was, he would have to spend hours explaining their whole history. Roman really didn’t think they had the time for that. No, the real answer wouldn’t do. At the same time he didn’t want to make something up completely because a shade of Virgil or not, he still deserved better than that. 

Virgil would always deserve better than a lie.


	7. Crimes Against the Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in my wisdom, I thought I could juggle a brand new job, which was full time hours and pretty much complete opposite shift patterns to what I had been used to. Add to that being ill, trying to complete Nano last month and various other commitments and I lacked the energy to even deal with the comments my beta left me, let alone update. I am so very sorry, but we are back at last! With some more adventures with Logan, let’s see what our logical boy has been getting up to.
> 
> This chapter was beta-ed by Yamiaainferno, who really managed to get something good out of something terrible. Thank you also to Theicymage who suggested the chapter title.
> 
> Tumblr gonna tumblr. Come say hi @theeternalspace

** **

### Crimes Against the Crown

** **

The huddled figure looked just like Virgil, but then he would expect nothing less if this were a figment. His hoodie was the same, each white stitch where it was supposed to be. Another example of the strange behaviours that were at work here, that it could be an old castle and yet someone in a tie or a hoodie was not worth remarking upon. Virgil was still huddled, terrified out of his wits and currently no help at all to Logan.

So, it seemed as though he was trapped within this fantasy story. and the options were either to refuse to engage. or to change the story. 

Ignoring everything just as Virgil was doing right now, was certainly tempting. The story would continue to tick on without their input, however, and he had little doubt that at some point Remus would return with the guards and drag them out of this cell to wherever the axe-man and his audience were waiting. There they would be forced upon the block and - 

No, option two. Thank you very much: Change the story. 

Which required getting out of this cell. If they could do that, then everything after it would be easy. It was just a matter of overcoming this first hurdle. Logan wasn’t even going to spend time trying to come up with a play to retrieve the key, not in its current location, a fresh shudder of disgust swept across him at the thought. 

All this time, and Virgil hadn’t moved from his spot in the corner. If it weren’t for the sound of his laboured breathing, Logan might have doubted he was alive, instead simply a statue in the form of his friend. 

Figment or not, Logan would need his help in order to get out of here. He had no intention of hanging around and discovering what happened to a side that was killed here. Logan needed to get out of this cell and find his way outside. Remus wasn’t as powerful as he liked to think; he could only control a small portion of the mind, and if Logan could get far enough away from the Duke the reality of this world would start to crumble. Once that had occurred, not only would he know for sure if this were his friend or not, he would also be able to answer all the other burning questions in his mind. 

“Virgil... Virgil, please, look at me.” Logan forced his voice to drop into his softest tone, trying to mask his frustration he felt with the situation at large. 

He didn’t understand any of this. What was Remus hoping to achieve? 

Then again, that was probably Logan’s own fault. As much as it pained him to admit that he might have made any mistake, and as much as it was not a common occurrence,even he could... stumble. Very rarely. It seemed as if he might have possibly stumbled just a fraction now in believing that Remus had possessed any concrete plan to begin with. He had probably just thrown all the random pieces together and shook them about just for the fun of it. He was the sort of side that could be endlessly fascinated by a snow globe, shaking and watching, watching and shaking. Assuming it was snowing blood, of course. 

The fact of the matter was that Remus wasn’t likely to be operating on some grand plan, but instead just doing whatever he wanted and letting the whims of fate lead him. 

Virgil simply whimpered, shaking his head a fraction and remaining otherwise frozen in his huddled position. It was... unpleasant, to have Virgil act like this in front of him. Potentially because of him. This might not be his friend. but he looked like him, sounded like him, and that meant Logan now knew exactly how Virgil might appear when frozen stiff in terror. It was not something he had ever wanted to discover. 

“Virgil, the Duke is going to kill us if we remain here. The most logical course of action is to attempt an escape. I have friends who will be able to aid us should we get out of this castle.” 

Or so Logan hoped, at least. They would be able to aid him... if he could find them. If this was Virgil. If this whole thing wasn’t a trap. If they weren’t unconscious somewhere else still. If, if, if. The ‘ifs’ stretched on endlessly in his mind's eye, a never-ending Greek chorus. 

“If he catches us, he’ll kill us harder,” Virgil whispered, words apparently aimed at his knees as though they might talk back, adding a new if to the list.

“That... that makes no sense,” Logan replied, mystified by the sentence. How on earth could anyone kill someone ‘harder’? You were dead or you were alive. This wasn’t like a cat in a box, or a character from The Princess Bride, there was no middle ground here, no spectrum. You were living while dying and then after living you were dead. End of story. 

“It doesn’t need to make sense!” Virgil actually lifted his head a little to glare at Logan, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Strangely enough, the sight of those actually made him feel a little better because at least they were an emotion. It was proof that this was still a Virgil that he could appeal to, that he could talk to. This Virgil cared about things. and so long as Logan had that, he could deal with everything else.

“Perhaps not. But do you wish to remain here and be killed in any sense? We _will_ die if we remain here and allow Remus to carry out his plan. However, an attempt at escape may succeed, in which case he will not catch us. Surely that is worth the risk?

“I’m scared,” Virgil said. The words were simple, tone matter of fact, as though he were saying that the sun was round. Speaking of the sun, it was still somehow setting, flooding the room with that blood orange shade which normally only lasted a few moments in a real day. But it made for dramatic lighting and it was, of course, better than darkness. 

“I know, Virgil, but we cannot allow the fear to overwhelm us, otherwise we are already dead. I do not plan to die here.”

It wasn’t like Virgil to be afraid and shut down. Sometimes he would freeze before deciding on a course of action, but to remain unable to go forwards or backwards was not like him at all. Fear guided him and directed his thinking a lot of the time, but this was more than that. This was fear that was all consuming, that dictated action and allowed no room for anything else. If it was a figment, then why would Remus have made it like this? He knew Virgil, and although he didn’t know him as well anymore, the Anxiety that he had known hadn’t been like this, had he? 

The already unpleasant feeling at seeing Virgil like this intensified. He disliked the concept of seeing any of his friends in pain. He especially disliked the idea that they may be suffering due to him, or that he had somehow made things worse; that he didn’t even know the extent of his own transgressions. Was it possible that during the early days, the Anxiety that they had all known had been a front? Could it be that for all the sneering and coldness that Anxiety had shown them, when he returned to his room and life with the other Dark Sides, it had been to regress into this fearful, frozen figment? 

Worst of all, could it be that Logan’s own behaviour had contributed to that? Was he scaring him now, pushing him into this mindset when he should be doing anything he could to ensure that Virgil was safe, that he was able to think? Under the layers of fear, negativity and pessimistic outlook was a quick brain, capable of seeing things in a different manner to Logan, and he often had helpful suggestions. True, Logan had to quite often filter those suggestions to discover what was or wasn’t useful, but that was what Logic was there for. 

He didn’t know how to handle Virgil in this state. Virgil sniffed miserably, still staring at him. 

“How do you know my name?”

Logan hesitated, trying to think up a reasonable answer. It would be pointless to tell Virgil the truth. Trying to convince him that this whole thing was a fantasy, that rather than a member of the kitchen staff just caught plotting to kill the Duke, you were, in fact, a part of someone else’s personality would be futile. Logan was aware of how ridiculous of a concept he and the others actually were. They shouldn’t exist at all, in fact. and once Logan had first become aware of that - and more pertinently, aware of how none of Thomas’ contemporaries appeared to talk to the various aspects of their personality - he had been tormented by the concept. 

There was no time to waste. Time. A strange concept, a linear progression that in reality was anything but. Time was fluid, constantly in motion. It stretched out and weaved back onto itself so often, and yet for all of that, it was also finite. You could run out of those grains of sand or drops of water so quickly. A blink, and the only time you were given was gone. And yet, by some thinking, time existed all at once, each moment overlapping and pressing into each other.

Not to mention the whole alternative reality and the countless changes and possibilities that could occur because of that. 

All in all, they didn’t have the literal time for Logan to waste going through their complete history. That meant coming up with a lie. Or a dramatic explanation. Either one seemed distasteful to Logan, no matter how much he twisted the rubix cube to look at the way forward. 

There didn’t appear to be many other choices on hand. however. He had been given three. The fact that he disliked all of them didn’t change the fact that they were still all he had to choose from. All that remained was the telling. 

A dramatic story it would be, then. Except not _so_ dramatic, because Logan didn’t go in for that sort of thing. A simple, brusque response would surely do the trick.

“Remus told me your name before you arrived.”

“That... doesn’t really sound like the Duke, but okay. He isn’t exactly known for thinking about people when they aren’t in the room.” Virgil was looking at him suspiciously as he spoke. It was, however, a distinct improvement on the way he had been examining his knees, so Logan thought that all in all, his story had been a reasonable success. 

“He was bragging,” Logan added. He couldn’t help but worry a little that he was going too far now, that he was layering fantasy after fantasy and making the whole thing too ridiculous to be believed. Yet again Logan found himself going too far, and when all of this was over he was going to have to critically re-examine the time he spent with all of them. Somehow, somewhere, he was being influenced when he should be the one influencing them. 

For their own good, of course.

But that was beside the point. Whatever the point had actually been. It was something for Logan to file away in his mind and forget about for the moment. He could sort his thoughts into boxes, placing them one inside of another and only pulling out the ones that he currently needed. 

It didn’t always work as well as he would have liked, not that Logan would have ever admitted to anyone that his thought process was less than perfect, of course. Luckily though, nobody knew of his boxes, and so nobody was able to comment on it.

“Sure, whatever,” Virgil replied, giving a small little shrug. To Logan’s annoyance, the maybe-his-friend or maybe-a-figment turned his attention back to his knees. What could there possibly be on his ripped skinny jeans that was so interesting he had to examine them for so long?

It at least gave him the opportunity to try and decide what he was going to say next. Logan was well aware that he had yet to make any breaththrough, either with Virgil or with his own theories but only a fool and a coward gave up that easily. He was neither of those things. Nor was he going to give up.

Virgil’s words were interesting, however. He spoke of Remus as though he were someone that he knew in this world. More than that, from what little information he had shared, it appeared as though Remus were the same here as out there in many respects. So, Remus was the one pulling the strings. That didn’t explain Deceit, or Virgil, or even why any of this was happening, of course. 

What was the saying? If the theory didn’t fit the facts, alter the theory, not the facts. 

There was yet another possibility, one that he hadn’t even thought of before then, but was breathtaking in both its simplicity and obviousness once it had occurred to him. 

It was entirely possible that wasn’t Remus at all. 

Maybe this whole thing was Deceit’s doing. Patton had shouted that Deceit had been the one to take Virgil originally, so it stood to reason that he would be pulling the strings here. 

Really, he should have considered that before and it annoyed him that he had neglected to think things through correctly. 

This was what happened when he allowed sentiment to get the better of him, when he focused on things such as making sure his friend was mentally and physically safe over looking at the whole problem from a distance. But enough about his failings, nobody needed to know the innermost workings of his mind. They need never realise how sloppy he had been in his deductions. It was pointless to blame either his lack of glasses and the disorientation that had caused or the confusion this whole world created. Neither truly excused him from the fact that he had not looked at things in the manner in which he should. 

The simple fact of the matter was that he was well acquainted enough with neither Remus nor Deceit to know who was who here. If they were working together or if this Remus was merely a shell. Logan liked to think that he knew them fairly well - not as well as Virgil, who had lived with them both of course, but well enough. However, he knew next to nothing about their relationship with each other and how they truly viewed Virgil. beyond the way in which they interacted with him during videos. 

Relationships were not Logan’s forte. Not only were they not his area, but he had no desire to study them closer than he had to. He wished to remain on good terms with the rest of the sides, of course, and most importantly with Thomas. His host would not listen to him if they were not at least friendly towards each other. It was not, however, Logan’s job to be best friends with anyone. Not even Thomas. 

Logic was Logic and sometimes he had to be cold, hard, and unyielding. It might not always give the answer that you wanted to hear, but it would be an answer unburdened by sentiment or emotional distraction. Remaining friends with them all was beneficial to their overall mental health, but anything deeper was not his domain. That was Patton’s job. 

For the first time, however, he found himself wishing he had questioned Patton more closely on what he thought was going on with the so called ‘Dark Sides’. It hadn’t seemed relevant at the time. It certainly hadn’t seemed like it was any of Logan’s business and so he hadn’t pushed when perhaps - just perhaps - he should have.

If Virgil truly had an antagonistic relationship with Deceit or Remus, as so many of the fans seemed to think, then that would change the situation further yet. 

Too many doors, too many paths unwary feet could be led down astray. There was a white rabbit lurking at the corner of many of them, ready to run off and lead people to a Wonderland of their own. Logan was not going to do that.

“We need to get out of here,” Logan repeated, trying to refocus both of their attentions on the here and now. The boxes in his mind felt as though they were overflowing, the lids tattered and hard to push into place. All the contents wanted to spill back out, to explode and distract him further. 

“You... really think so?” Virgil asked, his voice shaky.

“I do,” Logan told Virgil. He hoped that his steady expression was creating the correct impression, that Virgil could see how serious Logan was about all of this. “We will certainly die if we stay here. as I have already stated Virgil. We just need to find a way out of this cell.” 

“Oh... oh, well, that’s easy.” 

Logan blinked a couple of times, his brain turning over the words in his head as though he might have somehow misinterpreted the meaning of them. Getting out of the cell was... easy? 

“Explain.”

“Just pick the lock?” Virgil replied, as though the answer was an obvious one. Logan continued to blink at him, staring as though he could somehow see through the man and into the meaning of the words themselves. There didn’t seem to be a hidden message to them, no deeper layer, and yet Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was clearly missing something.

He truly hated that feeling. 

Virgil flushed, a pale, barely there pinkness colouring his cheeks. He seemed embarrassed by Logan staring, although what he could find uncomfortable about simply being looked at was beyond him. Logan was not making negative comments nor ignoring him, he was merely trying to understand the meaning behind Virgil’s words. And yet his friend seemed to take his silence as an attack - honestly, Logan would never understand feelings, or why they held such power over people - and started to talk, words tumbling over themselves as Virgil rushed to get them out. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you’re a high and fancy man. I suppose a Count like yourself has never needed to pick a lock? You’ve probably never been in any kind of trouble before now, have you? And now that you’re down in the dirt with the rest of us, suddenly you need to know. Or maybe you think I can’t be trusted because I know how to do that - who knows what other sorts of doors I could get through since I can pick locks, is that the case?” 

“Not at all, Virgil. I was merely surprised, and as you rightly surmised, I’ve not needed that particular talent before. If you do possess such a skill, I would be grateful if you could use it so we can both get out of here.”

“Hand me those broken glasses,” Virgil half ordered after a moment’s silence, instantly flinching and folding back in on himself, as though he couldn’t believe he had said that with such authority. Logan took a step forward, his hand reaching out to offer comfort, hovering uncertainty just above Virgil’s shoulder. He had noted before, in periods of great alarm or distress, that physical contact could be of great comfort for Virgil.

Then again, sometimes it made him worse. 

The side with the highest success rate of achieving comfort with touch when it came to Virgil, was, perhaps unsurprisingly, Roman. He did not mind the bone crushing hugs that would inevitably occur after Virgil had become more aware of where he really was but before he tried to retreat in embarrassment. Not that Roman would ever let him get far. Logan was proud - objectively speaking - of how far Roman had come when it came to interacting with the anxious side.

As much as he was loathe to admit it, he knew that the warming of their relationship was due to the romantic nature it had taken. It was not how Logan would have gone about trying to help Virgil, but as he did not possess any feelings in general, it was not surprising that he hadn’t considered that particular avenue of attack.

What _was_ surprising was that Roman had. More so that it had worked. 

Virgil turned to Roman a lot more these days. It had been slow progress, a gradual opening up, and there were still plenty of times when the anxious side was unable to face Roman. Apparently developing romantic feelings for another brought with it a whole new host of worries and fears, and made Virgil vulnerable to a whole new suite of cognitive distortions, which was not ideal. But on the whole, Roman would have been the best person to deal with the frozen Virgil in front of him, who was clearly expecting some kind of attack.

After Roman came Patton, only a percent or two behind in the number of times it had worked versus the number of times it had backfired. Something to do with ‘Dad power’, although considering that Thomas - and therefore by extension Patton - was not a Dad, he failed to see how such a thing could exist. 

Much further down was Logan. He was not particularly well versed in knowing when touch was welcome and when it was not. He favoured explanations, working out what particular issue was plaguing Virgil and then telling him what cognitive distortions could be hurting him. It was a useful tactic and really, Logan could not understand why Virgil only rarely seemed to appreciate it. He liked hearing about them most of the time, but during a stressful moment when he was either in an attack or about to slip into one, telling him why he was wrong seemed to do more harm than good.

It was mystifying. 

He also wasn’t great at physical contact in general. A touch, a hug, they never felt... right, coming from him. Oh, the others _told_ him that his hugs, rare as they were, were enjoyable and that they wanted more of them, but that had to just be them all being nice. They lived in close quarters with each other, so it stood to reason they would not wish to hurt his feelings without cause.

A pointless endeavor since he didn’t have feelings to start with.

They should tell the truth. He would have to argue the point with them again the next time it was brought up. No doubt they would deny it, but frankly the illusion was wearing thin and he would be glad when they stopped wasting everyone’s time. 

Suffice to say, a hug was out of the question. It was better, all round, to be safe rather than sorry. No physical contact would be better than accidentally triggering Virgil. He withdrew his hand slowly, not wanting to startle him with even that. 

“It’s quite alright, Virgil,” Logan assured him, voice dropping back into that calm tone, acutely aware now that he was talking to a wounded version of his friend. He could not allow himself to forget that again. This Virgil had clearly gone through great trauma before coming here. It didn’t matter if the trauma were real or not, if it had indeed happened as far as Logan was concerned. What mattered was that Virgil had the memories of the pain. He carried the still-healing wounds that would scar in time. 

It was real to him, and that made it real. Full stop. 

There was no need to gain any knowledge of emotions in order to understand that. It was logical, and thus it was something Logan could cope with. 

“I am not angry. You need them to get us out? Then, by all means, please.” As he spoke, he held out the broken glasses to Virgil. It was fascinating in a way, watching Virgil stare at them. He could almost see Virgil’s mind working behind his frozen features. The way he so rapidly and effortlessly weighed all the pros and cons. He tested his own theories in his mind, pressing lightly in one direction and then in another. 

Despite being able to see his thought process, there was still no way for Logan to know which way he would turn. It was a relief, therefore, when he slowly reached out and accepted the offered item, pale fingers curling around the arm of the glasses. 

For a couple of moments there was silence. Logan watched with fascination as Virgil popped out the broken half lens, scraping the sharp edge against an arm. He appeared to be forging some kind of blade, but Logan wasn’t going to question him. He did not believe that Virgil was making a weapon; that would not be at all in line with any of his previous actions. A Virgil that was heavily geared towards the fight in the fight or flight instinct perhaps, but this Virgil had not yet shown the slightest inclination of that behaviour. 

He wanted to know what Virgil was doing, but he knew better than to just ask. As much as Logan burned to understand what he was making and how it would help, he didn’t wish to distract Virgil. Or worse, come across as critical make him feel defensive about his project. Logan had been guilty of that offense more than once in the past, and it hadn’t ended well, he hadn’t meant to criticize so harshly. Indeed, he had not even realised that his words would be viewed as such, but he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was try and be better in the future. 

Most of all however, he had to trust Virgil if this was going to work. 

“You talk funny for a Count.” Virgil said at last, his cheeks turning red for some reason. An actual red this time, not the pale, anemic offering that had appeared before. His gaze was still firmly fixed on the arm that he was now trying to carve into some kind of shape instead of simply a point. So, not a weapon. It was an odd time for him to feel embarrassed. 

“How so?” Logan’s interest was genuine and he saw no reason not to ask. It wasn’t as though Virgil could work any faster, and the more he learned about this world the better. It might serve him well down the line if he learnt a little more about ‘himself’, in case they ran into someone. Managing to create a better rapport with Virgil was an added bonus. 

If he could talk without having Virgil flinch or freeze in terror at the sound of his voice, then so much the better. If they were going to get out of this, then he would need to be able to speak with him freely. 

Virgil shrugged a little, finally pocketing the lens and examining the makeshift object in his hand. Delicately, he blew on one of the edges, rubbing at it with his thumb before blowing again. His whole attention seemed to be focused on the thing in front of him, and Logan wondered if he had given up on the subject completely. 

Rude, but then again, it wouldn’t be the first time that Virgil had done such a thing. 

Whatever he was looking for, he clearly found it, and the purple haired male carried it over to the door and reached through the bars to insert it into the empty keyhole from the front.

A lock-pick? 

Surely, Virgil couldn’t build a lock-pick with nothing more than a broken piece of glass and some plastic? He had a high estimation of his friend’s skills, but even that felt like too much of a stretch to be realistic. Not that _anything_ in this world was particularly realistic. They were locked in a medieval style dungeon, to start with. Secondly, Virgil was wearing an apron, and normally he would do anything to avoid changing his outfit. He certainly wouldn’t have added such a thing willingly, as he would have seen it as encroaching on Patton’s area. 

With another shrug, Virgil started to speak again, words apparently aimed at the lock he was still struggling against, rather than Logan himself. 

“I dunno, it’s just... even in a situation like this, I wouldn’t expect one of you posh lot to talk to someone like me. You’d be banging against the bars demanding to be let out. Or trying to get the attention of the guard - bribery is normally a safe way out for someone like you. Dukey might accuse someone in power of trying to kill him every couple of months, but he rarely actually carries out any of his threats. He normally just contents himself with a bit of theater, the drama of the moment.” He paused in his work, one hand tapping against one of the bars in an idle, almost subconscious action.

Logan couldn’t help but notice he was tapping out the opening bars to _I won’t say..._ from the Disney film _Hercules_. Roman had recently been somewhat obsessed with that film. He had been singing the songs morning, noon, and late into the night. 

So late in fact, that Logan had once seriously made a plan to either construct a soundproof room for Roman to sing in, or build one for himself. Neither would have been actually practical because Thomas would have been unable to hear them or feel them while they were inside. And so, to his dismay, he had been forced to abandon his otherwise perfect solution. The only other ideas he had been able to come up with were begging Virgil to give his boyfriend something else to focus on - which would have been below Logan’s dignity - or murder.

Also below his dignity.

Now it was Virgil tapping along to the tune. That was another tick in the column for the theory that this was indeed his friend and not some copy. They wouldn’t need those sort of memories if it were just a figment wearing his face. 

“He seems serious this time. You must have gotten real close,” Virgil added. “What did you do?”

“Is the guard likely to hear us?” Logan asked hastily, in lieu of answering. He didn’t really have a good answer to that question. He didn’t know what his character had apparently done, only that he had been brash and foolish enough to fail in his attempt, and that he had had the idioic idea to try and fight his way out of trouble. No matter Logan’s own feelings on attempted murder, the fictional version of himself had apparently stooped that low. 

Whoever Count Logan was in this story, he was not a logical being _at all_.

At first, Logan had seen that as an insult, but now he was starting to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, he could turn it to his advantage. After all, everyone would be expecting him still to be a moron, to act hastily and with his fists. They wouldn’t be expecting someone with his dazzling wit and talents, so there was added hope to getting out of this intact. 

“Well, he left with Remus. He might be back by now; if so he will be nearby. As ordered. But I bet the dear Duke has put the fear of... well, the Duke, into him. He won’t be near enough to hear because if he can’t hear then he can’t be tempted by any bribe you want to offer.”

“Remus is truly that frightening?” Logan asked. “It would be _impossible_ to convince the guard?” 

Not that Logan had any money from this world to bribe the guard with, but that was beside the point. He hadn’t asked the question because he thought that it might be a legitimate way of getting out of this mess, but simply because he struggled to believe that the Duke could honestly be that bad. Remus was an annoyance at times, downright frustrating at others, but Logan had never actually considered him scary.

He was well aware that the others viewed him as such, but even they didn’t seem to be as scared of him as Virgil’s words now implied. The other man didn’t so much as bother to give him a verbal answer, merely a soft huff and the slightest shake of his head. A response that told him more than any statement could ever have. This Remus apparently was that scary. 

With a soft little sigh of satisfaction, Virgil took a step backward as the door clicked open. It swung outward silently, Virgil twisting around a little to look back at Logan.

“Well done, Virgil! A plus for today,” Logan told him, a pleased smile gracing his features as he stared at the open door. With that hurdle overcome it would surely be easier to get out. The locked door was the hardest part. The guards would hardly be expecting Remus’ prisoners to be wandering around the castle. It was all just a matter of getting as far away as they could before someone realised they were gone.

Once they were safe, Logan could start to examine the problem of how to get home.

“Come on,” he told him, carefully leading the way out of the cell. There was silence behind him, no hint that Virgil had so much as heard his words, let alone begun acting on them. When Logan turned back, it was to see Virgil staring at him, his expression thunderstruck. 

“You... you want me to come with you?”

“Of course. Not only did you get the door open but you will be killed if you remain. Why would I not want you to come with me?” Logan asked in confusion. 

“I kinda figured you were just using me...” Virgil mumbled, giving an awkward, one shouldered shrug as he finally started to move after him. 

“Well, remove such thoughts from your mind,” Logan ordered, inching forward to peer cautiously around the corner. The corridor ahead seemed deserted, stretching on toward a nondescript door. “I have no intention of leaving you behind.”

Sentiment again, no doubt, but Virgil was his friend. No matter the truth about this Virgil, he would treat him with the respect and dignity that everyone deserved until events proved he was unworthy of it. Thiswas, in part at least, his friend. Virgil would always deserve that and so much more besides.


	8. The Moral High Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... um... hi? It’s been, what six months? Yeah. Let’s not... let’s not think about that. Welcome back! I’m so sorry about the delay! But we are back, I’m feeling enthusiastic about this story again and I’m excited to share some more of the boy’s adventures through the mind! We’re back with Patton and the biker gang this time, ready to face off against the rival leader. 
> 
> If you need a refresh and don’t feel like reading the whole story again right now, Patton’s chapters are two and five, so you can catch up on his plot line specifically. 
> 
> This chapter was beated by Yamiaainferno. Who is so very patient and kind and their comments really pulled this all together. Honestly, this would be nothing without them. Thank you to Jitteryglittery for help with the chapter title!
> 
> Tumblr gonna tumblr. Come say hi @theeternalspace

** **

### The Moral High Road

** **

No!

Just like Thomas, Virgil was a lover, not a fighter. And that was something that he would never stop believing.

Patton couldn’t let him do this. He couldn’t allow Virgil to lose himself in the lust of the fight, to surrender himself completely to inhabiting that role. Patton wasn’t exactly sure why he felt like that. It was more than just not wanting his friend to become lost in himself - it was connected to that strange set of feelings that he struggled to put into any clearly defined explanation. 

The one good thing to Roman and Logan not being around was that he didn’t have to put it into words. He didn’t have to struggle to find the thoughts he needed to explain himself. Patton could just let himself feel whatever it was he was feeling and trust those instincts to lead him along. Maybe it was like the paranoid anxiety in Virgil, the one that saw all the bad outcomes even though he couldn’t say why. The one who saw things ticking away in the subconscious and was able to focus them into a reaction. 

It was why Thomas had never gone across that old bridge at summer camp when he was a teenager. His friends at the time had all laughed and mocked him. Inside his head, none of them had been able to get an answer out of Anxiety as to why he was refusing to let Thomas cross it. It ashamed Patton to think about it, but none of them had taken his fears very seriously, prompted, no doubt, by the fact that he hadn’t given them a reason why they should. 

Many years later, Virgil would confide in Patton that he hadn’t known himself, only gripped by a very strong feeling that something was wrong with it. He had known they wouldn’t listen to that and so had deliberately kept himself vague and mencaching in the hope that they would decide not to fight him on it. It had worked too. And then a week after camp had ended, the fraying ropes on the bridge had finally given way and snapped, sending it hurtling to the bottom of the gorge. Thankfully, nobody had been hurt, the one person on it stepping off just in time. 

That could have been Thomas though. If Virgil hadn’t seen the state of the ropes without realising he had seen them. If he hadn’t argued so loudly, despite not knowing why, just trusting his own feelings. This was the same thing. Hopefully. Whatever it was, it told him that he had to keep trying to get through to Virgil. That somehow, Patton needed to stop this fight. 

Or maybe he just needed to stop Virgil’s _idea_ of a fight.

That was the other way. Just as he had known, there was always another answer, another thing they could do. If he couldn’t stop the fight, he could try and change the _meaning_ of it. 

“Maybe just try talking to him first? See what he wants, it might not be as bad as you think?” Patton asked hopefully. It sounded silly he knew, but sometimes when it came to Remus it really was just a case of listening to him and whatever horrible and unpleasant thought he had gotten stuck in his head this time. Although that was for his Remus, it might not work for this one. 

Virgil snorted and shook his head, biting at his bottom lip. He hadn’t said no though, Patton eagerly latching onto that thought and clinging to it for all it was worth. He hadn’t walked away to start the fight and that meant he was thinking about it. Patton was going to take that as a good sign. 

“If nothing else, if you talk long enough Nate might get back? Not to fight!” Patton hastily added and he didn’t want to contribute to an even bigger fight. “But if Remus sees Nate show up, he might back down. At the very least, it’s worth a try? You said he used to be your friend, that has to mean he can be your friend again right? You two liked each other...” The last sentence came out slightly more confused than Patton had intended, as though he wasn’t quite sure how they had done that. 

There was so much about Virgil’s past that Patton still didn’t know. He had always tried to show Virgil the love and support he thought he needed. Always tried to be there for him without pushing too hard. Simply a warm, silent invitation. Patton hoped that Virgil knew he could always come to him when he needed to talk about something. He hoped too that he knew that while Patton wasn’t going to push, he was ready to hear about his past whenever Virgil was. The fact remained, however, that there were years and years of Virgil’s history that none of them knew anything about.

“Talking. Talking is just a slower fight... but fine, Patton. We’ll do it your way. At this stage I’m willing to try anything. Even... even not fighting.” Virgil didn’t look particularly pleased as he said it, but at least he had. 

“You’ll see,” Patton promised. “It’s worth it.”

Virgil exhaled heavily, dipping his head in a gesture that Patton knew so well. Usually he would do that in order to let his bangs fall back over his eyes and give him that added protection he felt he needed. There was no hair free to do that here, and it left Virgil looking strangely vulnerable, Patton’s heart aching all the more for him. 

“I really don’t know why I’m doing this, it's a waste of time,” he muttered softly, words aimed more at himself, it felt, than Patton. Honestly, Patton didn’t know why he was doing it, why he had agreed relatively easily. Did some part of this Virgil know who he was? Or maybe the dream or fantasy or whatever this was knew that Patton was trying his best and had responded accordingly. 

Without thinking, Patton followed Virgil as he walked out of the room and down the hallway. Outside, Patton could still hear the revving of engines, shouts and jeers rising just above them. It sounded more like one of those huge parties Thomas had gone to, where everyone had been drunk and rowdy, rather than a planned meeting between the two leaders. Even a fight surely had to be conducted on more calm ground. Not that Patton really knew much about fighting. Virgil paused by the entrance to the house, one hand resting against the handle. From behind him, Patton couldn’t see Virgil’s expression. Even when he turned around, the hallway was so badly lit that all he could see was the faintest outline. 

“Stay out of sight, okay?” Virgil might have phrased it like a question, but the firm tone implied that it was anything but. “Last thing we need is Remus spotting you. You’d be like candy to that demented duke, he can smell fresh meat a mile off.”

Patton didn’t think that was very fair. He wasn’t meat at all. Not beyond the meaty sack that made up every person’s body. If they were real of course. Or candy. He ate enough candy that he could probably turn into some, but right now he was still very much a non-candy side. 

“Okie dokie,” Patton agreed, and as confusing as his thoughts on candy were, it was better to just agree. There were far bigger things to worry about. Virgil nodded, and in one fluid, determined movement, spun and pulled the door open.

He passed through the threshold and out onto the street, Patton chewing at his bottom lip thoughtfully.

Virgil had told him to stay out of sight. But he hadn’t actually said he should stay in the house. Where was the harm in taking a quiet, tiny little step to the side, just to catch a glimpse of Remus? To see what was going on? Patton didn’t have any intention of getting involved further, but he couldn’t help but be curious. 

Holding his breath, Patton ever so slowly inched to a better vantage point, blinking a little as he took in the scene in front of him, trying to work out exactly what he was seeing. 

All the streetlights seemed to be working once more, bathing the area in harsh, artificial white light. Behind the row of oppressive buildings to the east, the sky was slowly turning a lighter shade of blue. The sun was coming up. Far too slowly, it seemed to be of any use here. Patton wasn’t staring at the skyline however. Or the cluster of bikes that had blocked either end of the street in order to stop Virgil from trying to make a run for it. 

Not that this Virgil would have even thought about trying to run. That wasn’t his style. 

Patton wasn’t even focused on the handful of bikers that were in the middle of the street behind their leader like some kind of backup singers. Amazingly, his focus wasn’t even on Virgil walking towards them either. It was all on the Duke. 

Remus was standing in front of an old fashioned Harley Davidson, the type where you were almost horizontal on it. Like Virgil, he was fully dressed for the situation. Unlike Virgil, his choice of jacket was not a dark colour that suited the situation. It was a bright, radioactive slime green. Of course it was. Why would he have thought for one moment that Remus might be wearing something normal? 

Lime sick green was never a good colour. As a complete jacket it was even worse, and Patton had to close his eyes for a moment to try and steel himself against the sight of it. There were Doc Martins on his feet in the same hideous colour, but the rest of his clothing was thankfully black and somewhat more normal. Still with far too many frills and unneeded added parts. And that was coming from Patton, who loved to add cute little accessories to his outfits. 

That was Remus for you. Why be tasteful when you could be loud and make a statement instead? The only problem was that most of the time Patton didn’t think Remus knew what statement he actually wanted to make. He knew he wanted to say _something_, but actually taking the time to focus on the details was just not something the Duke liked to do. Far better to just go with his general flow and worry about the small stuff never. 

Patton knew he should stay back and out of sight, just like Virgil had told him to but he couldn’t help but creep forward a little to try and hear what was being said. His curiosity was bound to get him into trouble one of these days, yet despite knowing that, he still shifted forward, watching as Virgil came to a stop a few feet in front of the group. 

“Remus,” Virgil greeted, voice cold and stern. It wasn’t exactly the friendly greeting that Patton had hoped for, considering he was trying to avoid a fight. Then again, he couldn’t really expect Virgil to be all sunshine and happy smiles for someone who had apparently caused him no end of trouble. 

Remus - as was his style - appeared to either not notice or simply not care about the tone, his face splitting into a brilliant smile. 

“Virgil!” Remus exclaimed in delight. His hands lifted, clapping together in a series of quick little motions, almost bouncing on his heels. It was the sort of move that Patton might make, but his was never that silly, surely? Or at least never that silly but also tinted with malice, the rest of the people behind him stiffening slightly on their bikes as if the movement had been some kind of unspoken signal. 

Now that he was able to look at Remus without wanting to throw up - something that would have undoubtedly disappointed the Duke had he but known it - he was able to take in those other people properly. He couldn’t actually recognize any of the figures on bikes. They all seemed strangely to have their faces cast in shadow so that it was impossible to make out any details. Even when Patton took another few steps forward, shifting to the side in order to try and get a better look at the nearest one, his features remained obscured. 

Blank, faceless figures. Patton shuddered in fear at the sight of them. What did that mean? Was this the imagination after all? Was there simply no time or energy to make them into actual people? They were essentially shop mannequins, and they gave Remus a run for his money on who was scarier. 

He didn’t even realise he had stepped through the broken and rusty remains of the gate and out onto the pavement until Remus spoke. 

“And look, you made a new friend! How wonderful for you, Virge. I was starting to worry you’d never get over losing me,” Remus purred, his eyes fixed squarely on Patton. 

Virgil spun on his heel, looking behind him with a glare that would have chilled many people if they saw it. Patton knew him better than that however, he could look beyond the obvious signs of hostility to where there were elements of panic and fear. A worry that was all about Patton’s safety, and not the fact he had disobeyed Virgil’s command. It still made Patton squirm slightly, offering Virgil a somewhat sheepish wave.

“He’s nobody,” Virgil told Remus firmly as he turned back to look at him, trying to regain some control of the situation. Patton couldn’t help but feel that was a mistake, Remus bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Ooooh, now that can’t be true. Everyone is somebody, because nobody is perfect and he doesn’t look perfect.” Remus paused, examining Patton for a moment, the moral side doing his best not to shrink under the suddenly piercing gaze. 

For a moment, he wasn’t the Remus who ran a biker gang and spent his nights looking for new ways to annoy Virgil. In that moment, he was the Duke, one of the twin Creativities and he seemed to know exactly who Patton really was. It made Patton feel like a fraud, as if he had deliberately crept into a world he wasn’t supposed to be in and now he was going to be called out on it. In that moment, Remus seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and everything he had said since arriving.

The moment passed.

“Come on, come on, I don’t bite.... Well, I do, but I won’t bite you. Right now.” The gaze became lighter, dancing between the two of them as Remus wrinkled up his nose in pleasure. He appeared to be momentarily distracting himself with his own thoughts, no doubt something vulgar to do with biting. Virgil tensed even further, and if Patton didn’t know better he would have thought the biker was a statue.

“He can stay where he is,” Virgil replied sharply. 

“_He_ can speak for himself. Come on newbie! Let me have a look at you. This is so much better than fighting.”

It was as though Remus had spoken a word of power, a magic spell. Better than fighting? That was what Patton wanted more than anything, to stop this madness. It meant he had no choice but to take the final few steps down the path and cross the short distance to stand beside Virgil. His friend was visibly grinding his teeth together, his whole body still so stiff and unyielding. Patton couldn’t help but risk a sideways glance towards him, hoping to see a hint that Virgil’s wasn’t too mad at him.

The worry he could take. Even the fear, although Patton hated the idea that he had caused Virgil to feel either of those emotions. Both were better than the thought that he might be honestly upset with him. Virgil just looked blank, the sort of empty emotionless face that Patton knew better than to believe was real. 

“And what is your name, He?” Remus looked far too pleased with himself, and that made all the hairs on Patton’s neck stand on end as he refocused on Remus. The rival biker gang leader was up to something, he could sense it. And not the sort of something that Patton might have expected, the kind that promised violence. No, there was something else here. Something Patton couldn’t quite see yet. 

“Patton.”

“Patton! Pat...on. Pat... off. Hmmm. You don’t look like the rest of the merry men. Where, oh where, did their beloved leader find you? Dead in a snowdrift somewhere?” He pinpointed the location with eerie accuracy, giving another peal of laughter as he did. 

Perhaps not so eerie. For the first time, Patton gave serious consideration to the idea that this could be one of Remus’ worlds made real. He had never stepped foot in one of them, but he had spent enough time in the worlds that Roman made to know some of the rules in which they operated. The unsettling blank faced people would fit with that theory. As would the way in which those people he did meet and talk to were all aspects of Thomas already. It was easier to use their faces rather than make completely new ones. 

There was still a lot that didn’t make sense. Such as why he had ended up here in the first place. A doorway that Deceit had made and passed through should have led to an area of the mind that he had the most influence over. Or, at worst, it should have spit them out directly into the vast badlands of the subconscious. If that had happened, Patton doubted he would have been able to find his way so easily to something as stable as an imagined world, even one designed by Remus. 

Instead, he should be awake and struggling in the river of those passing thoughts and fancies, the ones that Thomas was rarely even aware of.

Thomas.

Patton hadn’t even thought about what could be happening with Thomas. If he was missing and he knew for sure that Virgil was missing... and if Roman and Logan were missing... could he function if all four of them were deep in his mind? Patton had to hope that he could. He had to pray that he was doing just fine and that even though right now Patton was so deep he didn’t know how to get out, that Thomas could still feel him. Surely, Thomas could still feel him. Patton was still existing, which meant that Thomas hadn’t died and that was a comfort. A tiny one, true, but a comfort nevertheless. 

Patton had to stop thinking about this too, in case it was hurting Thomas. Or Virgil, because he could feel himself on the cusp of a panic attack and the last thing he wanted was to make things worse for his friend, wherever he was. 

Next to him, Virgil exhaled heavily, closing his eyes for a moment and lifting a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He seemed more tired than worried, completely unimpressed by the antics of the Duke but at the same time, not exactly surprised by them. Patton wished he and his Virgil had been able to react with such tired boredom when Remus had decided to make his grand entrance. It probably would have gone a lot better for Thomas if they had. 

“What do you want Remus? I wasn’t aware you wanted to talk about my adoption process. I clearly don’t screen them well enough because you somehow made the grade.” Virgil’s voice was as flat as it could possibly be. Not that Remus took any notice of the tone. He wasn’t the sort to be worried about that sort of thing, instead latching onto some of his words. 

“Oh, have I failed? Going to spank me, teacher?” Remus leered. He spun, bending against his own bike in what Patton could only assume was supposed to be some kind of seductive pose. “Harder, harder!” 

Now that he could see Remus’ behind clearly, he realised he had been wrong in thinking the lower half of his costume was, for all intents and purposes, normal. The trousers were actually skin tight leather ones, with a pair of hot pants just covering his cheeks. In fact, the trousers weren’t actually trousers at all, but some thigh high tights? In leather? There was the tiniest slip of skin visible where the two items of clothing met, if you took the time to look. 

Just to ram the point home, the stitching on the bottom of the hot pants was done in the same putrid green as the jacket and boots. 

Patton hated himself a little for staring as long as he had. It had taken him a few seconds to work out what the line green represented and then a few more seconds after that to work out that he was looking at hot pants and what seemed to be very long socks. It meant he had ended up staring at Remus’ lower regions and that, no doubt, had been the point of the whole outfit. To make someone - anyone - stare and cackle at the thought of them having to examine his butt as they tried to work out what they were looking at.

“Stop, I’m not going to spank you,” Virgil responded, rolling his eyes at the show. With a slight huff, Remus turned back to face them, resting his hands on his hips. On his hot pants, and now that Patton had seen it, he was unable to unsee it. 

Oh, how he wished he could unsee it.

Silence stretched out between them, and nobody seemed to know what to say. Nobody seemed willing to start the conversation up again, not after the last words and images that had been emblazoned in their minds. Patton wasn’t even sure if it was his place to say anything. It felt almost as though he might be intruding, if he were to speak. This was supposed to be a conversation between the two of them and as much as Patton wanted to protect Virgil, at the end of the day this was a choice that he needed to make himself. He would support and help him as best he could, but it was still something he had to do. 

“So, are you here to fight?” Remus asked at last. Somewhere in between blinks, he had pulled out a knife, casually picking under his nails with the very tip of it. The metal flashed in the light with each little motion, an erratic flickering that made Patton’s head hurt a little.

“No,” Virgil replied, pulling a face as he did so. He looked as though he would rather eat broken glass than say that one little word. Remus gasped, his eyes growing wider and more demented, free hand lifting to rest against his cheek in an overblown shocked facial expression. 

“Oooh, finally here to surrender then? Very well, I accept your complete surrender with no terms whatsoever!” 

“I’m not here to do that either!” Virgil snapped in frustration, his mask of aloofness slipping a little. It would have taken a much stronger man than either of them were not to grow annoyed at Remus. Even if you were used to him, not that you could _really_ become used to him, being annoying was one of Remus’ talents. Patton was pretty sure the other side would become heartbroken if anyone ever did actually become immune to everything he said. It was more than his power, it was his very being, and to take it away would be like denying Patton his love of animals or Logan his chance to read for hours at a time. 

“Then why, little emo, are you here?” 

“I...” Virgil trailed off, swallowing heavily. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat, the words apparently stuck. Patton couldn’t say them for him, but there was nothing in the feeling that was churning in his stomach that said he couldn’t offer Virgil encouragement and support. What was it that sweet little Hobbit had once said? He couldn’t carry the burden for him... but he could carry him. Patton could do that too, one hand lifting to rest gently against Virgil’s leather clad arm. It was enough to make the purple haired male turn to look at him. 

“It’s okay kiddo...” he whispered. “You can do this.” 

Virgil actually smiled at that. It was something small, soft. A barely there expression that still made Patton’s heart soar high with delight. He always beamed whenever he was blessed with one of those rare expressions. In any world. 

His friend turned back to face Remus, fingers curling and uncurling as though his hands couldn’t quite decide if they were meant to make fists or not. This had to be so tough for him, Patton’s admiration soaring even higher at that thought. He was going against everything he thought he had to do, he was risking his own life because he believed in Patton. 

Patton just hoped that he was right. His own feelings had let him down in the past, but this couldn’t be one of those times. It just couldn’t. Next to him, Virgil continued to struggle, his whole body trembling slightly now as he searched for the right words to say.

“I’m here to talk,” Virgil finally forced out through gritted teeth. He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing a little as though simply saying them had been enough to break whatever barrier had been holding him in place. 

“Record scratch, I’m sorry, what?” It wasn’t often that Patton had seen Remus honestly surprised and it gratified him to see it now, the rival leader blinking rapidly. Virgil nodded slowly, his whole attention fixed on Remus. Patton was staring at him and only him as well. Those faceless figures which loomed around them hardly seemed real to start with; they were even less important now. 

“I don’t. I don’t want to fight anymore. Let... let’s try and do something else. I mean. You’re an ass. And that outfit should be a crime. But I’m a mess too and as Patton reminded me, we did use to be friends.” Virgil managed a wan smile as he held out a somewhat trembling hand towards the other man. Literally offering him the hand of friendship. “Can we be friends again, do you think? Can we talk about this?” 

Remus was looking at them with a strange expression on his face, that look of surprise having only been a fleeting moment of weakness. Patton had seen the Duke wear a lot of odd expressions over the years. Some of those expressions had included him covered in blood or some other awful fluids. They had haunted Patton’s dreams many nights. 

But he had always known what the expression was. He had always been able to recognise the emotion that Remus was feeling, even if it was one that he wanted to ignore. This though. This was something very new and very different. This was something that Patton wasn’t able to define at all. And he was meant to be all about feelings, good or bad. 

“You. Don’t want to fight me? Are you _sure_ about that Virgie? Sure that your little heart isn’t just aching to get some blows in when my back is turned? You were made to want to fight me. If not me, then someone. It’s all I’ve ever known you to do.” Remus pushed himself away from his bike, stalking forward like some impossible green offended cat. He paused a hair’s breadth in front of the outstretched hand and repeated himself. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

Patton had been proud of Virgil so many times over the past few years. He felt that same rush of warmth now, watching this version of his friend turn away from the path he had walked for so long. It was never an easy choice to decide to change something big about yourself. It was something that Virgil had done once before, when he had decided to change his tactics in order to honestly protect Thomas. That had been one of the hardest things Virgil said he had ever done. 

This had to equal that, for this Virgil. 

“Then the bestest of friends we shall be once more!” Remus declared brightly, grabbing Virgil’s offered hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Okay boys, stand down, we are all friends again!”

“Wait... just like that?” Virgil asked in surprise, letting Remus manipulate his arm up and down as though it was a lever. “All this time, all the fights we’ve had and you’re going to take my word just like that?”

“Of course I am! You and I have been many things my emo, but we’ve always been honest with each other. If you want to talk and try to find a more peaceful method instead of relying on your fight response all the time, then I am _all_ for that.” Remus paused, a devilish glint in his eyes. It was the sort of look that he got just before he tended to drop some kind of bombshell, Patton automatically tensing a little against the expected blow. 

“I guess you dating my brother won’t be so bad after all.” Although the words were directed at Virgil, his gaze was fixed firmly on Patton as he spoke, Remus even going so far as to give him an exaggerated, over the top wink. Virgil merely stared in bemusement. 

“Since when do you have a brother Remus? And why would I want to be dating anything connected to you?” 

The blood was rushing to his head, Patton no longer listening to Virgil. Whatever response Remus might have given to that half barbed taunt was lost in the sound of blood. Brother? _Brother?_

But that meant... that meant that Remus knew he had a brother called Roman. It meant that he knew the truth, that he had been playing a role all along. He was like Patton, he didn’t belong here but he had managed to carve himself a place. He had been directing things, shaping the game as he wanted. Which meant that Patton _hadn’t_ imagined that look. Remus must have known from the start who he really was. But then why hadn’t he done anything to try and stop him? 

Patton opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, struggling to think of the right thing to say. It wasn’t as though he could just dramatically point and scream ‘objection!’ like the lawyer in him wanted to do, because Virgil wouldn’t understand. Virgil clearly didn’t know the secret, and so would think he was even crazier. 

That, and Patton wasn’t actually a very good lawyer. His one case resulted in his client being found guilty. Well, that _and_ Patton wasn’t actually a lawyer at all and Logan was still not so secretly salty about not having been given that role. And well, _also_, that and he was pretty sure that line was from a fictional lawyer. 

“What... is that?” Virgil lifted a hand, pointing at something behind Patton’s left shoulder, shaking him from his increasingly confused thoughts. Slowly, almost dreading what he would see, Patton turned around. 

There was a large vortex of pale blue light swirling upright behind him. It was almost as tall as Patton, pulsing gently, almost as though breathing. It reminded him a little of the vortex that had dragged him into this mess to start with, although lacking the violent wind which had pulled them in and refused to let go. It should frighten him, Patton knew distantly. It was very clearly not of this world. It was a rip in the story and it could cause who knew what sort of damage before it was closed. 

The periwinkle blue was comforting though. It reminded him of his own claimed colour and that could never be bad, surely? There was a feeling emanating from it too, a warmth that made Patton want to move closer, almost subconsciously taking half a step towards it. 

As though in response to his movement, it shifted. The impression it created in the minds of those watching was almost as though the once upright portal was melting, sliding down from its previous position to rest on the floor.

Now, it reminded Patton almost of a lake. A beautiful blue lake with inviting water that begged you to dive in. Diving in. That sounded... good... right about now. 

He shifted forward another half step, ignoring the noise of protest that Virgil made as he leaned a little. Just to try and see if there was anything in the center of the swirls. Was it nothing but blue light? Or was there some hint within as to where it had come from. Or more importantly, where it led. This was an entrance - or exit - that much seemed clear. A get out of this story free card. 

Patton wasn’t sure what they had done to create it, but that strange feeling that this was something that was his, and thus safe, persisted. Was it because he had helped end the conflict? Because Remus had gotten bored and admitted he wasn’t who he said he was? Not that Remus had looked bored by the situation. And speaking of Remus... Patton could see a flash of bright green in the corner of his eye as the Duke moved, a slash of unpleasant colour cutting through the more pleasant blue. 

“Enjoy your trip!” Remus trilled. Before Patton could ask him what he meant, he felt a hand settle in the small of his back, an added weight suddenly pressed against him. In one smooth , strong move, Remus pushed. Patton stumbled forward at the unexpected pressure, arms flailing as he staggered ever closer to the vortex. 

“Patton!” Virgil’s cry was right in his ears, the other side suddenly there, gripping his arm and trying to pull him upright once more. They wobbled on the very edge of the vortex. The rest of the world seemed to fall away, leaving the two of them struggling against gravity. Patton’s other arm was outstretched, waving wildly in the air in a series of giant, windmill-like motions as if that would somehow help right him. 

“No, no, no!” Remus complained, the Duke sliding easily into the world that was previously only them. “You’re meant to _go_ on the trip, don’t be rude Patton! You _won_, yay!” 

With that, the weight on his back suddenly returned, another nudge to send him even further off balance, and not even Virgil trying to pull him back was enough to stop the inevitable from happening. As if in slow motion, he tumbled forward and into the light. 

Almost without noticing, he felt Virgil fall in after him, the biker gang leader’s hand still firmly wrapped around his arm as they twisted and flew through a sea of blue.


End file.
